


Dorian

by Jaeger Gipsy Danger (Carleen)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dorian Has Issues, Dorian is a Good Friend, Evil Solas, F/M, Human Inquisitor - Freeform, Inquisition Agents (Dragon Age), Inquisitor & Dorian Pavus Friendship, Inquisitor Dorian relationship, Male Homosexuality, Male-Female Friendship, POV Dorian Pavus, Solas is Fen'Harel, Unrequited Love, female inquisitor - Freeform, inquisitor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:26:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 59,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4935904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carleen/pseuds/Jaeger%20Gipsy%20Danger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian and the Inquisitor enjoy the friendship building between them. The humor, fighting side by side, the camaraderie, and sharing the things they have in common. Circe would do anything for her friend Dorian and he feels the same, but you can't always control where your heart goes and then what?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If I Loved You

* * *

"If I loved you

Time and again I would try to say

All I'd want you to know

If I loved you

Words wouldn't come in an easy way

Round in circles I'd go

Longin' to tell you but afraid and shy

I'd let my golden chances pass me by

Soon you'd leave me

Off you would go in the mist of day

Never, never to know

How I love you, if I loved you."

* * *

**Circe**

He found me on the balcony outside my quarters. I needed time to think and just now, time alone proved elusive. Exhausted after the battle that led to our final victory over Corypheus and confused about my future role here in Skyhold, I admit to hiding. Although the campaign ended five days ago, fatigue and lethargy stayed with me through the long ride home. Sleep, when I could find it and slow my mind from its racing thoughts, didn't come easily.

He walked toward me with his usual strut, resplendent in new black armor that showed off his lean strength. I couldn't help but return his grin. I never could, Dorian Pavus, my friend, my confidant and the man to whom I'd stupidly lost my heart.

"The whole bloody town is waiting for you, Inquisitor. The soldiers all lined up in their tacky uniforms and shiny weapons. The washerwomen, blacksmith, the Elves all dressed up in their dreary robes, and the Southern mages are in excellent form. Now, come along. They're waiting for you," he said placing a shawl over my shoulders.

I shivered at his touch. It's not that I don't want to celebrate. It's my duty as the Inquisitor to go out there and say a few words. Like  _thank you, and you're all so brave and all that_ , but exhaustion dragged me down and exposed my emotions. Rather thoughtlessly, I replied, "You'll protect me, won't you?"

"Only with my life." I heard the smile in his tone as he smoothed the expensive silk shawl and rested his hands on my shoulders.

"You don't have to go quite that far." What a thoughtless thing to say. All of us, Dorian and I included had saved each other's lives many times.

When he turned me around and tucked me under his chin, I let myself relax against his broad chest. I decided to allow myself a moment. Just one moment and that would be enough. My eyes drifted closed. What would it be like to wake this way, with him, my head on his chest and his arms around me?

"You're such a complicated mix of a scholar and leader. When you look at me the way you are now, I see the young girl you were never allowed to be."

"Never wanted to be," I corrected him quickly. "You see too much."

"Yes, but you allow it. You trust me. Yes? Don't run away, this time, Circe. Always running back and forth and up and down checking on everyone."

"Everyone but you, is that it?"

"What troubles you?" The concern in his eyes is genuine, and I want to lean into it, but the consequences of revealing myself would prove too painful to bear. During the endless days of campaigning, he's been a good friend, and it was easy to hide the depth of my feelings. The need to stay alive long enough to close the Breach and end Corypheus made it simple to focus on the issues as they arose. Now, with peace and sufficient time to start living again, attempting to hide my love for him seemed awkward and useless. What good would it to me, anyway? Merely embarrass us both, of that I am sure. At least, I could be truthful about one thing.

"Yesterday… I thought I might have lost you in the Fade."

"I was right behind you. You were never out of my sight." He moved his hands to smooth back my hair. "I should have asked. Are you alright?"

"No, it was… I knew what I needed to accomplish. I couldn't see you. It was terrifying." I had to put some distance between us. I moved down the cold balustrade as if to gain a better vantage point. Over my shoulder, I said, "I'm okay. Don't worry about me," my laughter sounded forced. If I could hear it, he certainly could. "I'm the Inquisitor, right? And you'd never ask a man that question."

"Quite correct my little bluestocking and I would never tell a man how I think about winding my fingers through the riot of curls you keep so tightly braided. Circe, have you ever allowed a man to unbraid your hair?"

"Certainly not. Isn't that your department?" I answered back, but our usual banter was absent tonight, and my attempt at humor fell flat.

"What are you suggesting? And how shall I respond? That you're the most attractive man, I've ever met. The only man I've thought about…" A blush crept up over my chest and neck. He watched the flush travel over the exposed flesh of my upper breasts exposed by this damn dress. Created out of black velvet and embroidered with colors of red and blue it's a beautiful dress. In my ears hang precious gems of blue that match my eyes. Heavy against my breasts lies necklace of braided gold set with a stone the same as those in my ears. Josephine and Liliana talked me into wearing this flimsy thing. I think they hid my usual uniform of leather coat, leggings, and boots.

"Ah, there's the blush I long to see." He tilted my chin up and repeated my statement. "Thought about…? Say it."

The conversation just took a turn I hadn't expected. So much for taking control.  _Come on Inquisitor, be in control._

"The things I've missed."

"And what you have you missed? You're a well-trained mage, the best education, and now fame, wealth and a line of handsome suitors. Ah, I think I know what it is. The night's festivities, the successes of the last months heated your cool interior. Ah, I suspect a proper Trevelyan lady saves herself for marriage. Yes?"

"You enjoy making me blush."

"No trail of broken hearts? No secret kisses in dark hallways? As I suspected, you've never even been kissed. Yes? Not Bull, or Cullen or Hawk, then? No?"

I clenched the frozen balustrade until my fingers ached with cold.

"You go too far, Mage. Men don't kiss girls who keep their noses buried in books or closeted away practicing their magic."

"Tsk! Most men don't know what's under their very noses. Now, finish your thought. The only man you've ever thought about…?"

"The only man I've allowed this close. There. Happy? Sadly, I'm not your type. So why don't you take your pick of one of those handsome dandies in the main hall and leave me to my gloomy thoughts? I'll come down shortly, say a few words, then I'm going to bed."

The opening notes of a waltz floated through the night air. Dorian placed a chaste hand on my back and took my hand. He waited for me to relax then whirled me around the balcony. When we arrived at the far end overlooking the mountains, he stopped but didn't let go of me. Then he bent down and whispered in my ear.

"Those men hold no interest for me tonight. Has no one told you how beautiful you are?"

He's looking at me so earnestly. I can hardly meet his eyes. If I do, I'll give myself away, and that would only embarrass us both. I don't want to lose my friend. I'd never been very good at making friends. Of female friends I had none. When Dorian joined the Inquisition and extended the hand of friendship to me, I accepted it gratefully. I hadn't taken into account that I'd left my childhood in Ostwick. The woman I became fell hard for the man she could never have.

We saved each other's lives, fought side-by-side, laughed together, shared books and many nights talked until sunrise. I know about his relationship with his father, just as he knows all about my family. We're both just tired with all the fuss and the reaction of the war finally ending, and he's not himself.

"You don't have to compliment me, Dorian. I know I'm not what you find attractive."

Then both his hands are on my face again. "Circe, look at me. You are the most beautiful woman I've ever known. Beautiful inside, with your fierce courage and intellect and outside with eyes the color of a summer sky and hair dark as night."

"Stop wasting those compliments," I said pushing him. Then he made a sound, something between a groan of anger and what? Frustration? Then his lips touched mine for my first kiss. I turned away and shivered when his mustache tickled my cheek. "Dorian, you don't have to."

I would gladly share all my first times with him, but I can't let him know that. He's bending his head to kiss me again. As much as I want this, I must put a stop to it.

"It is my pleasure. Now come here and kiss me properly."

"I don't know how."

"Circe! Let me give you this. Let me be your love tonight."

Tears burned my eyes and slipped down my cheeks He tasted them with lips whisper-soft across my cheek. What had my father called them, butterfly kisses? His hands pushed my dress off my shoulders, and he gripped my upper arms. His voice is surprisingly demanding, "What is it? Your hands grip me, yet you push me away, and now you're crying. Something I've never seen you do!"

I'm so tired and ready to be done with all of it. I want to go back to Ostwick, my horses, my tutors, and books. My own brand of frustration rose up in me, and I lashed out at him.

"Don't you understand, Dorian? It's always been you. You're the one I imagine with his hands in my hair, undressing me, teaching me. A little boy with black hair and green eyes who visits my dreams. But you're my friend, and I can't lose that. I won't!"

I pushed myself away from him. Now, I've ruined everything by admitting all that. I blame Andraste for putting all these womanly needs in us. Damn her and damn me for letting it slip.

His body is curved as if I were still in his arms. With his fists clenched, he watched me move away with narrow eyes. I'm only making this worse with my silly behavior.

"So when you joked about being the logical choice for my wife you were serious."

"I'm sorry. I never meant for us to have this conversation. Never wanted to change you."

Straightening, he looked at me with wonder. "We would be so good together."

"Yes, we are good friends. But you can't be serious. Would you expect me to understand your needs? I understand them now, of course. As your wife, I'm not so sure I could share you. Not at all sure, I could sit home while you indulge yourself in the local bathhouse because I do love you, Dorian. To me, marriage means faith, trust, and loyalty. We have that here."

Tears threatened to fall while all my promises and self-control dissolved. I almost lost him yesterday. I could lose him tomorrow. I could no more stop my tears then my feelings for this beautiful man.

"You would be a faithful wife… is that what you're saying?"

I just nodded while he dried my tears with his fingers.

"And the mother of your children," I smiled at the thought. "Marrying me would make your parents happy, and improve your standing in the community. We could go to Tevinter together and work on those changes you spoke of."

"What about that screaming, Dorian? Could you listen to that year after year and still love me?"

"I don't know… Don't be so damn logical!"

"Here in Skyhold, in this world we, created for ourselves we can be this close. But not in Ostwick and not in Tevinter."

"Circe! With you by my side, we could make those changes. We wouldn't have to conform. We would set the tone in Tevinter society and set those Magisters on their collective asses!"

My fists pounded on the black leather of his armor. Andraste's gifts, he's solid and unyielding. All I can think of is giving in to the desire to let him kiss me, touch me and believe in what he says. But this is nothing but a fallacy, and I reached for the strength I'd found so many times and pushed against him.

"And when I'm heavy and misshapen with child and the screaming is too loud. When your needs drove you from the softness of my woman's flesh to that of a man's?"

"Stop it!"

His fingers bit into my upper arms. I reached for him squeezing my fingers into the leather over his biceps. We glared into each other's eyes, anger, while unspent emotion spilled over us. With a fury so primal I couldn't tell if it were his spell or mine. Magic crawled along my skin and weakened me so I could hardly stand.

"Then what?" I shouted into his face. "I hear you talk about how married couples despise each other in the Tevinter noble houses. Would you teach me to hate you?"

"Don't! Circe. I can't…" he shook his head as if to deny my words. Then it happened. The evening's twilight exploded with green fire. Searing pain skipped across my muscles, pinning me to the stone balcony and ripping a scream from my throat. He cried out, too and raised his hands, while anger and frustration faded into something else. I couldn't read him. But I could always read him.

"Dorian," I shouted doubting I made any sound at all. Darkness crept across my vision blinding me with creeping tendrils of death.

I'd ruined everything, and it was my fault.

* * *

"If I Loved You" –Rodgers and Hammerstein,  _Carousel_


	2. In My Time

 

* * *

"I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo.

"So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."

―J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

* * *

**Dorian**

When I realized what I'd done, I shouted like a simpleton and tried to pull back the spell. As if that might work, but it's too late. I watched the light fade from her eyes, as she collapsed against me. My careless spell shimmered across her limp form dissipating harmlessly into the night air.

"Circe!"

What had I done in my senseless rage? I scooped her up and carried her inside, where her lifeless body tumbled from my arms to her bed. My cheek felt hardly a breath from her blue-tinged lips. I took her hand. I shook her shoulders and shouted her name. Fear clotted in my throat. I'd driven her to that anger. Teasing and flirting with her as if there were nothing else that required our attention. How wrong I was to tease her and how deadly the results. Her spell had skittered over me leaving me nothing more than a blister or two and singed hair.

She didn't want to tell me that she loved me. Now I've thrown that gift away from the lifeless body of this amazing woman. I'd changed over these months with the Inquisition. This girl and my time with these people taught me there's more to life than drinking and spending my youth over empty nights, spent gambling and carousing.

Simple prayers from my childhood fell from my lips. "Andraste with your light. Andraste in your mercy. Andraste protect her from my cruelty. Don't take her life... she's needed... she's not finished. I am a fool. A careless, selfish fool!"

Fleeing from my father's terrible, shocking plans with only my mage's staff and determination, I left Tevinter behind. Without family or coin, I had nothing when I came to the Inquisition. No place to call home. No bed except the cold sheets of my empty bed in my father's house. I needed to feel welcome somewhere. An open door with friendly people inside and a warm fire. I'd lived without it and didn't realize I'd missed it until I left Tevinter.

I enjoyed my friendship with Felix and the nights by the fire with Alexius. Then Haven and after a few nasty comments and glances, I was accepted. Then Skyhold and watching this young girl grow into a woman before my eyes. Here, I found friends. People like me, from all over Thedas coming together for one purpose.

A sob shook me, bending my shoulders. I took her cold hand in mine. "Maker, no. What have I done?"

Overcome with grief, I couldn't tell you how long I sat there. Until a golden light pierced the windows. Lifting my head, I'm blinded by the swirling colors and light filling the room. A warmth which had nothing to do with the sun's light filled the room. Then I heard a feminine voice, her words spoken in the somber tones that spoke of the ages. I cringed at the voice echoing around me.

_Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls. From these emerald waters, doth life begins anew. Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you. In my arms lies Eternity._

I shivered in spite of the warmth when I felt pressure on my head as if a hand touched me. Bitter tears burned my eyes. Why do I weep? Is it because she answered my pleas or that I'm finally humbled. Is it possible Andraste will answer my prayer?

"Please don't take her," I pleaded with the golden light like a child begs to be spared a beating.

_She is my Herald, Altus. She holds the lantern for me to shine my light upon the world._

"She's my light, too. Blessed, Andraste."

_And what, my selfish child will you give in return? You're a faithful servant, but your life is unfulfilled and nearly wasted. You seek only the pleasures of the flesh with no thought to the impact on the future, yourself, your parents, your unborn children or the land you love so well. What will you do with this gift, given so innocently to you by my Herald?_

The light blinked out as if a cloud passed over the sun. She's forsaken me because I had no answer for her. Should I be surprised that she found me unworthy?

Strong hands gripped my shoulders and hauled me to my feet. Mother Giselle's face, twisted with rage swam into view. It's Cullen who has me by the arms, but Mother Giselle shouting into my face with one of her hooked fingers pointed at my nose. The old hen won't listen to me. She's looked for a way to do me in since the beginning. But, Cullen. Cullen might listen to reason. Reason? Andraste just visited me. Reason and intellect fled the room some time ago. I had to try. Circe was dying.

"Cullen, listen to me. You know I would never hurt the Inquisitor. Hawke?" I can't believe I'm pleading with Hawke, of all people. He won't even bother to meet my eyes.

They dragged me into the prison and tossed me into a cell. I curled on my side where I landed. The heavy iron door clanged shut.

I sat alone in the Skyhold prison. Perhaps it's the same cell where Alexius waited out his time. Circe! I don't know if she's alive or dead. Had they found a healer in time? No one came near me and night crept in to blind and suffocate. I murdered the Inquisitor and the Herald of Andraste. Prayer will not change the fact that death is my only future.

It's nearly the dawn of the third day when I sipped the last of my water and choked down the last slice of coarse bread. I intended to save it, but when I dozed off, an enterprising rat tried to steal it from me. Little bastard lies dead on the stone floor where I tossed him against the wall. I have learned something here, without food or water my mana quickly dwindled.

Here I lay, staring up at the stone ceiling, freezing and starving. It'll be a close race as to which one kills me first. Helpless is not a word I would ever use to describe myself. Along with my strength, the magic is gone from me. Regret is the only emotion that torments me and her name chanted, mocking me, in my head. With an aching belly and my head too weak to rise from the icy stone, I thought back to the early days of the Inquisition when everything seemed possible, and courage was a thing we shared.


	3. A Friend in Need

 

* * *

"Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend." —Albert Camus

* * *

_**6 Months Earlier** _

**Circe**

The first time I laid eyes on him I thought his name was Felix. We were, after all, in Redcliff looking for a man named Felix. As I watched him vanquish the demons pouring out of a small rift, I found myself admiring his effortless movements while casting his magic. He moved with the confidence and the grace of a dancer. His physical beauty and fearlessness caught my imagination and made me think of a feral cat. I couldn't take my eyes off him. No, I thought, he doesn't look like a Felix sort of person. Then he turned and spoke.

"Ah! You're finally here. Help me close this, will you?"

Close what? I thought with my mind wandering, staring at his muscular physique. A smile that left me weak in the knees, with a voice like a mysterious stranger, yet with the warmth and humor of someone who knows you well.

The Iron Bull nudged me, "Watch out, boss. It's always the pretty ones."

Pretty, indeed. Necessity brought me out of my uncharacteristically girlish musings. Chiding myself for my lapse of attention I unleashed the power of the mark on my hand to close the rift before anything else appeared. It took only a minute or two for the mage and me to wrap things up. With Solas and the Bull to back us up, we made quick work of it.

When all was quiet, he turned to me. "Fascinating. How does that work exactly?" When I didn't answer, he looked me up, and down his eyes narrowing. "You're a mage, obviously. But you don't know the nature of the magic? How very odd," he said, arching an elegant eyebrow at me.

My shyness born of too many years in a Circle kept me silent. Finally, he took my hand and examined my palm. Cheeky. Bull snorted a warning, and I saw him swing his head menacingly by the shadow he cast across the mage and me. The mage appeared too interested in my hand to be impressed by Iron Bull's show of strength.

"So, you just wiggle your fingers and boom?" He asked again with a good-natured chuckle. Was he laughing at me as if I were some apprentice mage with no basic knowledge?

My heart speeds up, hammering in my throat not with the flustering of a simple girl, but with anger at his arrogance. Infuriating and arrogant. He'd said, 'finally here.' How long had he been fighting these demons? Any one of them could have possessed him.

Apparently, this wasn't Felix or Alexius. But I had him figured out. No one but a mage from Tevinter would wear such ornate clothes or was that armor. Even at my Father's court, we didn't dress in such flash and extravagance. Orleais was another story. The accent was all wrong for him to be from anywhere but the Imperium. I snatched my hand out of his grasp and shouldered my staff.

"I'm waiting for an overdressed, know-it-all mage from Tevinter to instruct me." Now, that felt good.

He laughed again, "Then today is your lucky day, my lady. For I am those things. Although, I prefer well-educated, and you did leave out handsome."

My curtsy of respect would have impressed the loftiest of courtiers. Although, I admit it was done with tongue-in-cheek. The wit and manners tempered his arrogance, and I began to find him charming. The Bull grumbled his displeasure.

"And how shall a lowly mage from Ostwick address such a fine specimen of a mage from the north?"

"Fine specimen, you say?" He took a step toward me, locking his gaze with mine. "And you didn't make the mistake of assuming I was a Magister. The moment you walked in the room, I thought, there's an intelligent lady who knows quality when she sees it."

He made a gracious bow, "Dorian, of House Pavus. Altus Mage and lately of Minrathous. And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

"Circe Lorena Alycia Trevelyan of Ostwick, your Lordship."

He took my hand. "Let's save the Lordship title for my father and thank the Maker he isn't here. A pleasure, Lady Trevelyan."

Then he bowed over my hand and the kiss warmed my flesh. My fingers responded by curling around his. I knew he felt it when he glanced up with a crooked smile and raised an eyebrow that I would come to know well.

"A becoming blush, Inquisitor," he murmured over my hand, holding it a moment longer than good manners normally allow. "Circe is it? Are you like the Circe of the old tales, intent on luring me to my doom?"

Ah, so he knew who I was. Easy enough to guess, since I was the only one around with this green fire in my left hand. Still, it pleased me that he knew, and then I reminded myself I didn't have time for distraction and brought myself back to the business at hand.

"I'm looking for a man named Felix."

"He'll be along shortly. You saw the note?" He asked seriously as if only a moment ago we flirted.

"Of course, I saw the note. Rather cryptic, I thought. Can you provide more detail?"

Dorian shrugged and shook his head. The frown on his face spoke of disappointment. "Felix's father used a spell to alter time to arrive here before the Divine died in the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes."

This made no sense. "Why would Magister Alexius attempt something so obviously dangerous to gain the mage's support, which he already has? Then killing… No, murdering several hundred innocent people in the process?"

Footsteps behind me and I felt Bull take a step closer. The man walking toward me is about Dorian's age, but with none of the fire. The dark circles under his eyes spoke of illness. Indeed, I sensed a malingering dark shadow hanging over him.

"He's done it to get to you, although I don't know why."

The Tevinter look and accent were all there, but this man was not well. I saw him glance at Dorian when I put out my hand, "You must be Felix. An honor to meet you."

He bowed over our joined hands, "An honor to meet you, Inquisitor. I apologize for my father's activities. I can't explain it, but Dorian and I felt you should be warned. He joined a cult called the Venatori and they're obsessed with you."

"I've studied his work. I always thought there was a dangerous arrogance to his theories, but time magic?"

"And just to gain a few hundred lackey's?" Dorian said with his brow furrowed.

"No, it's more complicated than that," I responded shaking my head. "If he meant to remove me from time and gain control over the mages…" I looked at Bull. 'Why all the fuss? Why not simply have me killed, it's not as if I've been hiding."

"Simple assassination?" Dorian chuckled again. "How very un-Tevinter."

Did he always answer questions with more questions? Was he ever serious? To be honest, I'm not a fair judge. I'm always the serious one. A solemn little mage and serious scholar. The Temple of Sacred Ashes was my opportunity to escape the confines of the small cloistered world of my Circle and learn about Thedas. I decided to give him another chance before I dismissed him as a frivolous fop. I might be too serious, but I don't judge people based on their looks. It's just that my eyes traveled to his left shoulder where the drape of the leather bared sculpted muscles and revealed just enough of his chest to draw the eye. And his olive skin? Is it warm to the touch?

Maker's sake, stop staring! To be fair to my wandering eyes, I am only nineteen and a rather unsophisticated nineteen at that. But I'm learning more every day. When I woke up in the cell and Cassandra, and Leliana interrogated me, I hadn't felt afraid, just very curious. Since that day, the world opened for me in ways I hadn't even imagined. The dangers may wait down every path, but I found it exciting and unusual, like catching a breath of fresh air after being in a dank cave for too long.

"I read some of your work, too," I said and enjoyed watching his eyes widen. And deciding to leave out the part where I had to sneak it in the Chantry and keep it hidden under my bed. "Your last paper noted this type of magic was just theory. Obviously, Alexius moved on. Is there more information you can provide?"

While Dorian searched for words, it was Felix who spoke first. "He's joined that cult. I think he's getting help, in some way, from them. Although I don't know how. But you're in danger, Lady Trevelyan that much we can be certain of."

"Fear about an Elder One is on everyone's lips. The Breach, the explosion and the senseless death of all those innocents. That's why we are here. But first I must return to Haven and report my findings."

Dorian retook my hand, and the warmth returned to my chilled fingers. "I must leave now, but when you're ready to go after Alexius, I want to be there. Farewell until then, Lady Trevelyan?"

"First, how do I know if you're not an abomination? You were alone with those demons for how long?" I was not without a sense of humor, no matter how unsophisticated. I think he brought it out in me.

Dorian and Felix rounded on me, and they exchanged glances over my head. I was not some child mage trembling in fear of their harrowing.

"Lady Trevelyan, may Felix and I speak to you privately?"

Suppressing my irritation because I needed to get back to Haven. We were still holding hands, and I felt his fingers interlaced with mine. I nodded to Bull and Solas, and they withdrew.

"Do not underestimate the personal danger, Inquisitor. Solas. He's a Hedge mage, and while that Qunari may provide protection from the physical world, I doubt the elf's abilities to adequately protect you from the powers my father summoned to his aid. Do not underestimate my father's ambitions."

Dorian squeezed my hand as if to emphasize Felix's words.

"I don't understand why you fight against your father."

"For the same reason, Dorian does. We both love and respect him. He's my father and Dorian's mentor. But this madness must be stopped, and we are ready to aid you to that end. We hear about the supporters throwing their lot in with the Inquisition. We wish to join you."

"Felix will do what he can from here, and I will join you later when you're ready to go after Alexius. He doesn't know I'm here and I want to keep it that way. I'll be in touch." Dorian made the sign of Andraste to Felix, "Try not to die, Felix."

When we were alone, he whispered, "There are worse things than dying, Dorian."

"Then, you are ill?"

His sad smile said it all. The malingering presence over him was almost palpable.

"The healers cannot…?"

"No, they can do no more. My days are numbered. Do not pity me, My Lady. I can do much good from my father's side."

"Thank you, Felix. Events are changing quickly. I must get back to Haven. Be well, until we meet again."

"I promise. Wait a moment. Lady Trevelyan, Dorian likes you, and that is a rare thing. He does not bestow friendship lightly. With him, on your side, your forces strengthen. You don't trust him, but give him time, and you'll see the truth of my words."

"He counts you as a friend?"

"Yes, we grew up together. I would enjoy fighting by his side… and yours. But that cannot be. I must take my leave of you before my father begins to search for me. Travel safely."

* * *

Benedictions 4

"Blessed are they who stand before

The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.

Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just."


	4. Blessed are the Righteous

* * *

"Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow.

In their blood the Maker's will is written."

—Benedictions 4:10

* * *

  **Dorian**

"Don't worry, I'm here. I'll protect you."

She raised an eyebrow in my direction and the look on her face let me know she didn't need my protection or reassurance. Instead of looking at me as her savior, she tossed me a smirk and began to search the room.

Most people, that is, people who weren't pampered, over-educated mages from small Noble Houses in the backwaters of Ostwick, might be overjoyed, indeed, greatly relieved to have me at their back. We're knee deep in water, hopefully not drained directly from the Redcliffe Castle garderobes or jail cells. The scent in the air told me otherwise. I resisted the urge to pull a scarf over my nose. I wouldn't do it unless she did and well, never mind, we had more important things to worry about.

"Provided Alexius meant, as you hypothesized, to remove me from time, thus allowing to gain control of the mages and victory for Corypheus. The results, by the red lyrium deposits and general condition of the castle, we appear to have landed somewhere forward in time. Do you agree, Dorian?"

Do I agree with what? Oh, yes. "My hypothesis, Inquisitor — Maker's sake, she's got me talking like an academician — That Alexius directed the spell at the nearest confluence of archaic energy…"

"Your ill-timed spell blocked his spell and tossed us into Maker knows where or when. I'm searching for evidence of that confluence now."

I made her a bow and ground my teeth to keep from saying what she needed to hear. Something along the lines of recommending sex as an outlet for her obviously pent up energies. And by someone who knew what they were doing. Someone like me. A vision of her dark blue eyes blown with passion, skilled hands fisted into silk sheets and her black hair spread over a white silk pillow appeared in my vision.

_What?_

"Lady Trevelyan, I rather imagined I saved your life by intervening. Yes? Apologies, if required. Alexius is tearing time to pieces, and we've already got a hole in the sky."

Drawn to her, I moved closer and stared down into her eyes. Then she blushed, and I watched it climb her throat and bloom into her cheeks. She didn't smell as most women did of an overabundance of lavender or verbena. Instead, I caught the scent of midnight stars, evergreen, and fresh snow under moonlight.

She looked away first and turned her back on me. Score one for the Altus Mage.

"My lady. Let's look around. Perhaps we can escape this noxious flood."

"Agreed. Let us move on." She looked me up and down and damn if I didn't shift my feet. "It's staining your leathers. I can see it from here," she commented dryly before sloshing through the water and into the corridor lined with prison cells.

A beating. That's what she needed. But I followed her down the reeking corridor without offering.

As we walked the smell and darkness grew, the shine of red lyrium cast eerie shadows. Until over it all came a very human sounding groan. We sprinted toward it. It wasn't a human at all, but a scarcely recognizable elf.

Next to me, Circe gasped, "Fiona, what happened?"

"You must stop Alexius! You died...he won. It was horrible."

"We'll get you out of there," I said working my magic on the lock.

"No! Don't waste your time with me. I'm already dead. Fix the timeline. You must hurry! I think Lilliana is here. Find her. For Maker's sake, for all our sake, hurry."

Lilliana proved the most difficult to find, but in the process we located, Bull, Cassandra, and that noxious little elf Sera. Circe and I shared a long look. Yes, I nodded in agreement. This was genuine horror. We'd left the present only an hour ago while these brave people experienced a year of this torture.

I watched Circe cast a healing spell over Cassandra. Her touch soothed the Seeker, and she relaxed against Circe for a moment. Healing was not one of my best skills, but she had a real talent for it. A remarkable woman. Someday when this was over, I imagined her settled down with a loving family and children at her feet. And a man who loved her in spite of all her complicated and bookish ways.

Once we located Lilliana we made a good time to the Alexis's throne room. By then we were all exhausted and running out of potions. Filled with the choking stench of death and magic turned evil, the throne room stood almost unrecognizable filled with the green miasma we'd come to associate with the Rifts. Circe stumbled on slimy stone stairs. I caught her and for a moment she leaned against me.

Shimmering eyes looked up into my face. "I must be stronger than this… for them… I made a promise."

I pulled her tight against me. "None of us faced this before, Circe. Yes? Remember that. It will take all of us and our skills to get through this. You are not alone."

"As I am beginning to understand." She summoned a smile for me and straightened herself away from my embrace. "Thank you, Dorian, for the reminder. I am thankful… glad you are here."

She brought her staff to bear, tossed me a grin and charged into the mess waiting for us at the bottom of the staircase. I stood watching, flat on my feet, empty and bereft of the warmth her presence. Swallowing hard I followed her to join the others and promised myself a long overdue romp with something young, willing and virile. The sooner, the better. I redoubled my efforts and watched the creatures fall one by one destroyed in the all-consuming fire of my magic.

The fight toward my one-time mentor and friend was long and horrible with one monster after another blocking our path toward him. Finally, he is alone in the hall, and now I must face the truth of this man I once placed above all others. I try to take some solace in the fact that he's not the real Alexius. This is the monster spawned from the results of a spell and an ego gone wild. We will fix that here and now. With a look toward Circe to check her position, we advanced toward him.

Sera stands quietly behind a pillar until she knows — apparently by some Elvin instinct — when to step out and aim. She's good at what she does. I'll give her that. Circe and I fight shoulder to shoulder alternating our magic spells. With Bull and Cassandra swinging with everything they've got, we finally begin to wear him down. It's working until out of the corner of my eye I see Sera land face down on the stairs. She fell so hard I can see the blood smear on the stairs as she slide down the stones.

I cannot get to her, but Circe tried. Every instinct in me drives me to call her back. But I've got Alexius's attention and if I can keep it long enough, they can regroup.

Adrenaline pumped through my body soaking me with sweat. The leather stuck to me and hindered my movements. Just another moment! Suddenly Sera is on her feet and notching an arrow. Good girl!

Where is Circe?

She's circled around behind him and released a spell, freezing him where he stood. I helped Bull to his feet, and he wiped the blood out of his eyes. Cassandra swung her sword with a battle cry and cracked the ice surrounding the mage. For a moment he almost crumpled.

Then he rose and whirled releasing a wall of flame. I rolled out of the way. It was only luck that I stood at that moment next to a stairwell leading to a lower level. The smell of burnt flesh hit my nose. Someone is hurt. Badly hurt.

Bull is down on the floor trying to put out the flames licking his body. Sera is running toward him only to be knocked aside by another of spell Alexius. She walloped the floor and didn't move again. Cassandra is on her knees her chest heaving with exertion. Someone hard explodes in my chest, sending tendrils of fear along my veins when I realize Circe is not among us.

Alexius turns toward me malevolence glowing like an aura. It's down to the two of us now.

For a moment our eyes meet. His grief hit me harder than one of his spells and staggered me back a pace. A life's work and this is how it ends. With a swing of my staff, I place my feet firmly and vow never to let my arrogance reach this level. It's breaking my heart.

Still several feet off the floor he stared down at me. Then he echoed his my own thoughts with his words, "You were the best and brightest of my students, Dorian. Don't waste your life."

He spreads his arms wide and lets his head drop. "I loved you as one of my own."

"And you were the father I never had, Alexius."

With a cry, I released a wall of flame at him. Without all the distraction, my focus was absolute. Nothing on earth could save him from the spell I cast. He died silently while magical flames melted away his clothes, then his flesh. Only his dried and burnt bones clattered to the stones.

I dropped to my knees. My staff clattered to the floor and for the first time in hours all was silent. I'd been brave enough to kill Alexius, but how much courage would it take to turn around. Get up, Dorian. They need your help. You're part of a team now. Get up. But what if…

Hands on my shoulders and Iron Bull pulled me to my feet.

"Up you go, Mage. No rest for the weary or is that the wicked? I always forget."

Circe secured my staff. Cassandra is grinning at me with a line of fresh blood matting her hair and dripping down her cheek. Sera ran toward us laughing and shouting.

"Tha' was a good go, aye? Who's next?

No one answered her. The Inquisitor secured her staff and closed her eyes for a moment.

"Let's get the hell out of here," opening her eyes and straightening her shoulders.


	5. Tea and Sympathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know... I just started typing.

* * *

"Years from now when you talk about this - and you will - be kind."

―Laura Reynolds, Tea and Sympathy

* * *

 

**Circe**

With clear weather we made the journey from Redcliffe to Skyhold in record time. Even the sunny skies and an easy journey didn't brighten our spirits. And I admitted to myself as I watched Dorian slip into melancholia that it may have been our first victory, but nothing close to our last battle. So we spoke little during the journey, allowing our horses to pick their way through the countryside toward home. Stopping for only for a few hours of sleep and a quick meal or to water the horses.

My worry over Dorian's loss of of Alexius probably overrode my good sense. Once we settled in for our first night, I decided to approach Dorian and offer an ear or a shoulder. Before I could reach for the tent flap the Iron Bull stopped me with a firm hand on my arm.

"Give him time, Boss. Give him time."

Reluctantly, I gave into his wisdom and bedded down next to Cassandra. Dawn came after hours of tossing and turning on my pallet.

Tense, exhausted and dirty we made our way across the bridge into Skyhold. Cullen met us at the gate with a smile and wave, when none of us responded he fell into step besides me and walked me to my quarters. While the others went their separate ways, I brought him up to date and bid him good evening, with a promise to call the War Table first thing in the morning.

An hour later, a long bath and clean hair helped to calm me. But the nervous energy stayed with me. One of the maids combed out my hair while I drifted somewhere between exhaustion and a kind of hyper awareness that comes with the overuse of magic. My tutors warned me of this, of course. They couldn't have known about fighting through a Redcliffe Castle full of demons, undead and a half-mad Tevinter mage. The mana hummed along my veins, heightening my senses until every nerve seemed on fire. Until finally, I could no longer tolerate the touch of the maid's hands or their endless fussing.

"Be done with it," I scolded. Her hands moved faster and soon my hair was gathered into a wool snood.

"Will the Inquisitor stay in for the night or dress for the evening meal?"

"I haven't decided. Just bring a tray of simple food and leave it in here. I'm going for a walk. Now, leave me!"

I'd have to apologize for that later as I watched them scurry down the stairs. A gown and robe lay on my bed. Nothing fancy just good warm wool. I pulled on clean linen small clothes and yanked the gown over my head. The robe swirled in my haste to don it and retreat from this stuffy room.

Skirting the great hall I climbed the stone stairs to the very top of the battlements. The twilight seemed almost magical up here, turning the night air almost blue. And over my head the stars insistently pushed their way through the diminishing light. I paced the course one side Skyhold and turned toward the spot where I'd first met Hawke. What an odd creature. Handsome, deeply sad, tortured, yet sure of his place in the world. Would I wind up like that some day? Scars on my face, gray in my hair and my hands calloused and twisted. A warrior's hands and I suppose I will have earned them.

We fought for the fate of the world, our world and this anchor that burned in my palm a constant reminder of my role. Each of us fought with the Inquisition for reasons both deeply personal, religious and societal. The very fabric of our world was at stake and every one's faith is being tested.

I know my team watched over me because of my youth and inexperience. Cullen was very generous with his time teaching me how to fight hand-to-hand should the need arise. He doesn't trust magic and I understand why. Now, I carry a fine dagger beneath my robe and he's made sure I know how and when to use it. Cullen Rutherford. My general. My teacher and one of the loneliest saddest men I've ever known. I suspect his heart broke long ago and never mended properly. How could it with violence, worry and responsibility a part of his every waking moment. At the corner of the battlement I opened the door to the guard room considering if he might accept my offer of friendship. He needn't be so distrustful of mages. Certainly not of me, anyway.

The door opened silently and inside cast in total darkness. Voices signaled that I was not alone. The voices whispered from the darkness, "My Lord is generous. I never imagined he'd…"

"Quite." That was Dorian's voice, the angry tone obvious. The rustle of straw and the sound of something else I couldn't identify. Then, with a voice sharp with impatience he said, "Do as you're bid."

Then I heard the first voice whisper, 'My Lord' and the distinct sound of Dorian's voice, only this time his moan didn't sound angry at all. Was he in pain?

Grateful I managed to remember to bring a candle I lit the stub. Meager light flared across the dark room. Revealing Dorian, his head thrown back leaning against the wall with his hands tangled in… in a young man's hair. It was Harry from the kitchens. Why was Harry kneeling?

Dorian's eyes opened and met mine across the small room. I couldn't look away. The sounds, the movement, Dorian's eyes wide and dark, his cheeks flushed. Then as if he'd been struck, he buckled and shouted something in Tevinter. All the while he never looked away.

When it was over, he tossed the boy away into the straw.

The door is firm against my back and my hand turned the handle. Dorian is striding toward me, he's undressed as if he needs to pass water. But that's not what just happened here. Andraste, guide me!

I dropped the candle and ran.

The shouting behind me only hurried my feet. The night obscured the battlements and I picked a staircase at random and kept running. When I reached a step level with the tops of the trees my skirts tangled in my legs and I pitched forward. Tears obscured my vision so I relaxed and let go with the knowledge that if I tried to break my fall I'd be hurt worse. The world tipped sideways. I'm a mage, you'd think I could do something. Upset and confused, apparently the best I can do is hope I landed in the dirt.

Strong arms caught me and held me above the ground. A deep voice chuckled softly. "And what do we have here? Our little Inquisitor out for a stroll? I saw the fire and was on my way up to help. It's out now. Was that your doing?"

"Don't call me that! I'm not a child."

Struggling was useless. The Iron Bull carried me inside an empty room in one of the outbuildings and sat me down on a table.

"If you weren't a child," he scolded holding my hands in his massive grip. "You'd have know better than to disturb those men in the guard room."

"I didn't even know there was anyone there! Now, let me go."

He grinned down at me and released my hands. "So now you've had your eyes opened and you don't like what you see."

My skirts were above my knees now. The Bull's hands gentle squeezing my calves. His frame filled my vision, his gaze filled with answers only he knows and kindness, there's kindness.

"I'll apologize. I need to go…"

"Shhh, stay here with me for just a little while. You're a long way from your cloistered world. We witnessed horrible things in Redcliffe. Violence I'll wager you never imagined. It churns the humors and heats the blood."

He's speaking into my ear and it made me shiver. "Dorian cares for you. He went through a certain kind of hell in Redcliffe. Horrors even he never imagined. Through it all he watched out for you. Don't judge him, Boss."

I let my head drop against his chest. "I'm not sure I even understand. I've never seen him… so out of control… so…"

Bull laughed and hugged me against him. "You'll understand soon enough, little virgin."

With one hand on my back the other moved up my thigh, caressing me and making me move against him. This was most unseemly.

"Wait. I don't… I've never…" Why was my breath robbing my ability to speak?

"I know, little one. Which is why I will be very careful to give you only what you need to calm you so that you may sleep. Hold on to me. I would never take what is your right to give."

Knuckles pressed against my small clothes drove a bolt of something through my body making me arch against him. With one arm around his waist the other gripped his harness, my legs fell open.

"That's a good girl. Just let me hold you up. You've nothing to fear from me."

His words and the gentle petting of his hands calmed me down and I forgot about fleeing back to my quarters. While my heart hammered in my throat a pulse between my legs. Long fingers pushed aside the linen.

"Pretty Circe. All darkness and blue sky, so beautiful with the power of your magic."

Spreading his fingers wide, he placed his palm flat between my legs. Each finger lit a path of fire and I pushed against the pressure.

An unladylike gasp of surprise burst past my lips, "Bull!"

"Shhh, stay with me."

I turned my face to his chest and pressed my lips against his skin.

His nails gently scratched between my cheeks and one finger crooked against a part of me I didn't know about. Apparently he knew all about it and suddenly I was the one out of control.

His breath against my neck and his hand between my legs narrowed my world to a pulsing beat of promise. Dimly I became aware of him pushing something hard against my leg while he began to pant.

Our breath joined in unison as we rocked together, toward what outcome I didn't know. The promise boiled outward from his hand, curling me into him and trembling against him. Then something broke inside me and I shattered. Both terrifying and magical I sank my teeth into his flesh. He gasped too and held me close pressing my face against him.

"Again, little one. Again." His voice came out hoarse and breathless.

I moved my mouth over his taut skin and bit down again. He groaned and I jumped in surprise when he pinched my nipple so hard it brought tears to my eyes. The pulsing waves amplified by the sounds he made and the release flooding against his hand took me. I shouted against his chest, bucking against his hand and the long hardness he pushed against me.

Something happened to him, too. Somehow I knew it. Even in the darkness I could see a wet patch against the front of his trousers. Now I had more questions. But he ignored me and pulled my clothes together. Then he picked me up as if I were a child and carried me back to my room. How no one saw us, I'll never know. In fact, I was so languid and sleepy in his arms I didn't care.

Then I'm on my bed and he's removing my shoes and cloak. My hair tumbled from the snood and he covered me and placed a chaste kiss on my cheek.

"Don't go." When I reached for him he chuckled. Gods what a child I am! Do I even understand what I'm asking for?"

"Go to sleep, little mage. Go to sleep." Drained and boneless, his words and the gentle movement of his fingers through my unbound hair released me into the land of sleep.


	6. Good Enough

* * *

"The worst thing about that kind of prejudice... is that while you feel hurt and angry and all the rest of it, it feeds your self-doubt. You start thinking, perhaps I am not good enough." —Nina Simone

* * *

** Dorian **

Curious. Yes? To feel this bad and still drawing breath. So dead I must be. Sad really, such a short career of glory, heroic deeds and rewards. With that tragedy on my mind, I rolled over in a tangle of dirty sheets and groaned. The motion caused my head to throb anew. Where the fuck was I? Wait, if I were really dead, my head wouldn't still hurt, my eyes burn and my stomach threatening to empty. Andraste would certainly be scolding me for my wastrel life and why is my throat raw?

Annoyed at all the unanswered questions, I forced himself to sit up. The room began to spin, and I, Dorian Pavus an Altus Mage from a fine Tevinter family vomited the contents of my stomach all over the gleaming steel toe caps of my boots. Very expensive boots, I might add.

Throwing all good breeding aside, I wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my equally expensive jacket, belched and flopped back on the bed. And that was a big mistake because the room is still spinning. Stuffing my head under a nearby pillow did nothing to stop the motion. The pillow smelled of kitchen grease. My delicate nose—I abhor strong smells—wrinkled. It landed on the other side of the room. Maker, I didn't smell much better.

I'm better off dead.

Events of the night began to seep into my dark thoughts. The pain throbbed, as the memories intruded. Banging against my temples like a blacksmith's hammer. Maker take me, I deserve death.

The door opened allowing a stream of blazing sun straight into my face.

"SHUT THE BLOODY DOOR!"

Thankfully the door slammed shut, which did nothing for my head but at least my eyes were no longer under assault. I imagined blood dripping down my cheeks.

"Lord Pavus, good morning."

"Who the hell are you?"

Imagine anyone not shrinking from my morning ill humor? This young man didn't even flinch. Instead, he blushed and peered up at me from under lashes as beautiful and golden as the caramel colored curls on his head, the plump, kissable lips, and the sharp jaw. The room stopped spinning.

"Harry, sir. From the kitchens. You remember…uh, last night?"

"Last night." I opened one eye. "Of course. Where am I?"

"In my room off the kitchen, sir. Here's a draft of good mead for you. It'll help clear your head."

With a look of gratitude, I gratefully accepted the mug and downed the contents. Now I could focus on the room. Small, about six by six feet with a narrow rope bed, a single candle, a bucket and small brazier for warmth. A little stack of books caught my eye. Could Harry read?

"How did I get here?"

"Well, sir. It was the Inquisitor, sir. No disrespect meant, but it was she that interrupted our bit of gentlemen's entertainment. When you finished, you tossed me away. I wasn't expecting it, so I hit my head and got knocked out, sir. I forgive you, though. The embarrassment of getting caught n'all.

Before I blacked out, I saw the Inquisitor slap your face. By Andraste's light, sir. I never knew a woman could hit that hard. Then I reckon she tried to kill us both by dropping a lit candle into the straw. It ain't like we was doing nothing wrong or bothering anyone else. Just having a bit of fun, right? Then she lit out like a beat dog, and that's when I blacked out. You must have put out the fire and got me out of there. And for that I thank you, as you certainly saved my life. I'll be giving you back your gold now, sir. No reason for payment. Us being men who understand such needs as we have."

Harry's eyes glazed over as he were remembering. Of course it was memorable, one could hardly blame the child for…The child?

I cleared my throat to regain his attention. He started and came back to himself.

"Now, where was I? Then I woke up in the garden with you sitting next to me drinking straight out of a bottle as fast as I've ever seen anyone drink. You could kill yerself that way, you know that right? So just before you couldn't walk n'more I brought you here so you could sleep it off. I figured no sense letting everyone see us in the state we was in, smelling like smoke, covered in ash and that hand print on your face n'all."

I raised my head from trembling hands, "You're a good boy… man, Harry. I'll make sure one of the maids cleans up the mess, and you have clean linen for your bed."

"Thank you, sir. Now I must get to work 'for the Cook comes looking for me. If you turn left out the door, you'll get to your room with no one the wiser."

"Harry? Wait. How old are you?"

"Sixteen, sir," he said and hurried to the door, but stopped just shy of opening it. "I know I wasn't your usual choice, but I'm complimented that such a fine handsome man as yourself chose me. Good day, sir."

Dying sooner rather than later, would be better.

~o0o~

Another cup of mead, two slices of bread, thick with new butter and a bite of chicken cleared my head. A bath and change of clothes brought me around. But now what? There was no hiding the face print on my left cheek. I hadn't the stomach for facing Cullen, so I headed down to the stables to check in with Blackwall for news. A bit shifty, but always good for the latest gossip.

When I arrived, happy to get out of the damnably cheerful morning sun, the stable workroom was empty. Heavy footsteps behind me. Ah, here his is. Instead of Blackwall, it was The Iron Bull with his usual swagger heading my way.

"Saw you enter the yard, vint. Blackwall isn't here. Inquisitor took him Solas and Cassandra out to study the Western Approach."

"She left without me? With only that Hedge Mage to keep her safe?" I shook my head and swore out my frustration, "Venhedis!"

Bull throw back his head and laughed. "She's young. Give her a minute more to process what happened last night. Why do you worry? She's not your type."

"And you think you are?" Maker take that smug look off his face. Never mind. I'll do it. I flew at him.

"Easy vint," he said stopping me by just holding onto my arms.

"What did you do to her?" Damn this brute! What if he…?

"Nothing more than a friend might do. Get your hackles down, before you hurt yourself."

"If you touched her!"

Bull released my arms tossing them down as if in disgust. "You are the most arrogant, self-centered…"

"Yes, yes, don't forget good looking. What are you getting at?"

"You treat her as if she's made of glass. She needs the space and time to learn her place here. She's got the talent and the guts and damned if she isn't a leader as if she were born to it."

What was this horned oaf getting on about? All of what he said was true. Except the part about me treating her as if she were glass.

"I treat her no differently…"

Bull threw up his hands, "You treat her as if you were courting her. As if, as if. Nevermind."

"You're the one in love with her," I shouted with jealousy flooding my heart. The mana glowed within me.

Bull whirled picked me up and shoved me against a wall. Dust and hayseed rained down on his. His words came out clipped and careful, striking me like a lash. "Of course, I love her. We all love her. She is a remarkable woman."

Now his finger is in my face, and I really hate that, but my feet are a good four feet off the ground. If I cast something at him, he'd probably, and with good reason toss me into the straw to complete what began last night. Self-conflagration is really not my style.

"Courting her?. Certainly not."

"She knows that now doesn't she?" Bull renewed his grip on my collar and hauled me up the wall a notch. Then he rolled his head staring at the ceiling and dropped me. "Bah! It's none of my business, and that's the way I like to keep things. Know this, Mage. If you hurt her, you'll answer to me."

Then he dumped me on my ass and left me sitting on pile of hay. Point taken you bloody brute, I thought, trying to pat the dust out of my hair and clothes.

Now what? The sun hasn't risen above the mountain, and I have an entire day in front of me with nothing to do. I suppose I could write some letters or get back to that book I started before we left for Redcliffe. I could make Varric play a few hands of Wicked Grace with the goal being not to win, but drink ourselves under the table.

No, not today. My stomach roiled at the thought of alcohol reminding me about this morning. Gradually I made my way to the garden. Everywhere I looked I saw signs of her hand at work. She's the one who took the time to collect the seeds carefully. She's the one who came out here in the morning to cultivate and care for the new plants. I knew she planted vines of different colored flowers at the base of each pillar of the gazebo. By Spring, it will be covered in a rainbow of colors. The Bull had been correct in his assessment of her. I also noted the artist's eye at work in this garden. A remarkable woman, indeed. She would require a proper chair and table when she sat out here to enjoy the weather.

By midmorning, I was ready to move on and headed upstairs to the library. Restless and bored I allowed my steps to take me up the stairs to her quarters. I needed to be near her. The need to know she was safe began to gnaw at me. Solas was not the man to match her magic, nor watch her back. The only place that man found happiness was wandering around in the Fade. A fine place to be if she required back up. Circe and I were warriors. If the fighting became too intense, she would tire. If were there I could back her up as she would to the same for me. Solas, a barefoot elf who barely tolerated living beings and could not be trusted for such duty.

I prowled the room, looking for answers and finding none. Her neatly made up bed with its coverlet of forest green velvet drew my eye. She lay there sleeping peacefully, on hand tucked under her chin and ebony hair across the pillows. Forcing myself to turn away from the vision that was not mine I noticed an easel tucked next to her desk, set against the mullioned windows.

After a moment, I convinced myself that it was better to sneak a peek at her artwork then imagine her lying in that great bed alone. The canvas drape fell away.

Something burned my eyes causing me to blink several times. Then a feeling or was it returning illness bloomed deep within me. Would I vomit again? My knees threatened to give way. I had to look away. On her desk stood a decanter of brandy and I gratefully grabbed it with both hands. The contents reflected the sunlight in a swirling array of colors from brown to gold to amber.

Forcing myself to set the crystal decanter down, I faced the canvass again. Standing in the whirl and eddy of a sea of green stood the Altus Mage from Tevinter. Staff in hand she'd painted me in action striking at a demon at the moment I would turn to put down the creature advancing just over my right shoulder. The background I recognized as the Inn at Redcliff. The differences in the image have dropped me into a nearby chair. She'd painted me as wild and powerful. As if I'd been fighting alone, my chest and arms bare. My hair in motion, my face set in concentration as I turned my head before I pivoted.

My hand scrubbed at my face. I was not that handsome or as virile as she painted me. A good Mage with substantial training and experience yes. But if that's how she saw me? Circe, what have you done? I let my head drop into my hands.

Three long weeks before we heard the sound of the trumpets heralding their return. Twenty-one days of practicing every day in the yard. With Drem as my teacher, I'd taken to learning the use a quarterstaff. A blade wasn't and never would be my style, but I found it very humbling to learn the use of a staff that didn't possess magic or further my own powers.

One night when he came to me to express his appreciation for his improved quarters and extra books, I discovered Harry's ambitions to become a master cook. Understand, I had not and did not intend to touch him again. Through my connections, I arranged an apprentice position for him in one of the great houses in Orlais. In time, he would become a journeyman and while I kept a watch over his career, one day he would realize his dream. That much I could do. I sent him off, with gold in his pocket, warm clothes, and a chaste kiss.

In twenty-one days, I drank nothing but water and fruit juice.

The night was falling when The Inquisitor's party rode through the gates. The mud splattered horses drooped with fatigue and although my heart aches at the sight of it. I watched The Iron Bull help Circe from the saddle.


	7. Secret Caves

* * *

“He, who had done more than any human being to draw her out of the caves of her secret, folded life, now threw her down into deeper recesses of fear and doubt. The fall was greater than she had ever known, because she had ventured so far into emotion and had abandoned herself to it.” ―Anais Nin

* * *

**Circe**

Bull insisted on helping me from my horse. It wasn't necessary. Instead of exhausted I felt exhilarated and astonished at what we'd seen in the Western Approach. I wanted to get to my desk and begin documenting all we'd discovered. Once that's completed I'll call a War Table to discuss issues and how to overcome certain obstacles and problem areas. After I thanked my groom for leading my tired horse away, I headed toward my quarters calling for my maid to bring me food and drink.

Bull frowned with disappointment when I turned down his offer to buy me dinner at the Inn, but I had work to do. Besides, I was still a little shy about what we shared that night. All those long weeks on the road and he never pushed for anything else. He'd promised though, hadn't he? And I would hold him to that promise.

At the top of the stairs, I found Dorian waiting for me. He held up his hand before I could speak.

"Inquisitor, I only wished to make sure you were uninjured and to apologize."

I threw down my cloak and hung up my staff. "You have nothing to apologize for, Lord Pavus. We'll have to return to the Western Approaches soon, do you wish to accompany us?"

But the look on his face took the bravado out of my voice. Trying my best to sound professional and unemotional, I failed when I noticed he looked as if he hadn't slept. His normally impeccably groomed hair curled around the edges of his collar. Even his mustache drooped over his frown.

I tried again. "Dorian, I do not seek an apology. I shouldn't have been stumbling around in the middle of the night. Friends understand each other and I hope we can continue to be friends."

The room darkened with the setting sun, filling the room with colors of orange and red. He smelled of leather and the mana simmered in him casting an aura around him so thick, I could almost reach out and touch the shimmer. I held out my hand and he took it. The mana crackled across our joined hands.

"Thank you, Inquisitor. I would like that very much."

"Well, you needn't make it sound like a servant's response."

"Apologies." He made a short bow. "What tone would the Inquisitor like me to use?"

"Stop that." I tried to laugh it off, but his downcast eyes told me this was not a laughing matter. "Dorian, please help me understand. What changed and why are you behaving this way?"

"I have wronged you, Circe and I don't know how to make it up to you."

A servant entered with a tray of food and a pitcher of mead. Our eyes met and held while she placed the items on my desk. She filled two mugs before leaving us alone. He took the cup I held out to him.

"To friends."

A great breath went out of him and I watched his shoulders relax. The urge to hug him almost overwhelmed me. How could I reassure him? His dark eyes reached for mine again. With his free hand, he placed two fingers on my cheek.

"To friends."

He raised his cup but didn't drink. Finally, I saw the corners of his mouth turn up. There's my friend, Dorian.

"We are all strangers here. We all have a personal life before this." I waved my hand to indicate the Inquisition. "And someday we'll all go back to that life."

Dorian set his cup down without drinking. "And never see you again? The endearing crooked smile winked out of sight.

Say goodbye to him? Never see him again? Something like a panic rose up in me, I took a deep sip and picked up an apple slice and a piece of cheese. "Come sit with me, I have so much to tell you."

With him taking a seat across from me, my desk rose up like a barrier between us. Throughout the long nights in my tent, I thought about Dorian and my knowledge of his preference for men. That he did, was not the issue. Maker, how I'd missed him. The issue was how to stop this girlish crush. This growing desire in me to offer him more than friendship. And the deep disappointment that he would never want me or see me more than just a bookish young mage.

"Circe?"

"What? Yes, the Western Approach. What an arid wasteland, full of evil smells and new creatures. I closed eight rifts, Dorian. My hand ached so badly by the end of the day. We encountered Rage, Pride, and Despair Demons. They were bad enough, but the Terror Demons. I hate their spindly creeping ways."

Dorian moved his chair to my side of the desk and absently picked up my left hand. While his strong fingers massaged my aching hand I tried to keep talking. But I was beginning to understand, it would be better for both us if we didn't touch each other.

"Go on. There is more. Yes?"

"We took Griffon Wing Keep with difficulty. I made the mistake closing the Rifts first. So that by the time we made for the Keep we were all tired and almost out of food and water. If it hadn't been for Scout Harding and her stores…" I tugged my hand from his. "We must go back and take Adamant Fortress. Only then will the Inquisition truly hold the Approach. I want you there, Dorian. I believe even greater terrors lie within and I need you by my side."

"Then by your side is where I will be. There is no question of that, Inquisitor."

Then I realized or saw, the great bear in the room. The thing we had not talked about. The thing which hovered over us in the room lit only by a few candles and the last rays of the sun. My heart skipped in my chest and something akin to butterflies churned my stomach.

"There is another question. Yes?" I said softly into the darkness, using one of his favorite expressions.

"Did The Iron Bull touch you?"

"I already apologized for stumbling across you and Harry. Your personal life is not for me to judge or my concern. Moral is important. I understand that, of course." Slowly rising, I headed for the safety of the balcony.

Behind me in an instant, he trapped me against the icy balustrade. With all the force of a noble Altus Mage, accustomed to getting his way, his words lashed out at me. "Answer my question. Did he hurt you?"

Did he hurt me, I wondered? How interesting, though, that pain did seem to be part of the experience. He'd asked me to bite him and I had obliged. Twice, in fact.

"Your glassy eyes and blush betray you, Inquisitor! You fled from me into the arms of a Qunari. You fool, he's Ben-Hassrath and Tal-Vashoth. You allowed him close and now he can spy and manipulate you, Badly done, Circe. Badly done."

My hand connected with his face before I consciously thought of it. The sound of the blow echoed into the night sky amplifying the truth of what I had done. The Anchor flared to life. Damn this man for angering me so easily. And twice damn my inexperience. I will not allow this to happen again. I am the Inquisitor. It doesn't matter that I wasn't their first choice or that I'm nothing but a green girl. I accepted this responsibility and vowed to see it through. There isn't time for this...this… for learning about men or friendship. I must hold myself above fraternization if I am to lead the Inquisition to victory.

Ignoring his wide eyes and the hand that covered his cheek, I gave as good as I received. "I will not allow you will not speak of the Bull in those terms. Nor do I owe you an explanation. I'm well aware of his past and intentions for his role with the Inquisition. Please leave me, Lord Pavus. I wish to complete my notes and ready myself for sleep."

Without a word, he spun away from me and left me standing in the dark with only the stars and the frozen mountains to judge my actions. When I heard the door slam at the bottom of the stairs my exhaustion got the better of me and I sank to the cold stones.


	8. To Sleep?

 

* * *

"What hath night to do with sleep?"

― John Milton, Paradise Lost

* * *

 

**Circe**

It's my little secret that I hate the War Table. I'll acknowledge it's my inexperience that makes me want to crack a joke in this dark room. But we are a somber group as we gather around this polished slab of wood. Longing to escape to the wilderness, I clasp my hands together to keep them still and work toward patience. I'm a very different woman now from the silent cloistered mage to Inquisitor. It's what I wanted, after all. To find some freedom and find my own path. Cassandra and Morrigan are arguing, there's no stopping them, so I allow my gaze to wander the room.

There's Cullen, the great yellow bear with his wrinkled brow and brooding eyes. And always, his hand on the hilt of a sword I've never seen him use. Cassandra, the cynic, who taught me more about how to survive out here than anyone. Lilliana, her narrow eyes missing nothing. I suspect she relies on that accent and fair beauty to disarm people. Much like a snake…I checked myself because that's an unworthy thought. She is very, very good at what she does.

We must plan for our next trip to the Western Approach. Although, I may dislike the War Table discussions, we cannot underestimate the seriousness of what we are about to face at Adamant Fortress. At last, the arguing stops. I listen to the plans and nod my head politely. Based on my experiences on the last trip, I already know who I plan to take with me. Cassandra, Cole, Dorian and I will start out for the Western Approach at first light. When everyone is satisfied to mission plans, I head off to the undercroft to update a few pieces of armor and weapons.

My eyes are weary and my step heavy when after several hours of work my fingers locate an expensive leather hidden among the stacks of fabric and skins. It's soft and warm, almost as if it's alive. Thoughts turn to Dorian and how well this black leather would look on his muscular frame. Would it turn his eyes even darker? I believe it will, and this is a better leather than what he currently wears into battle. While I prepare the leather for creating Dorian's new armor, I sense movement behind me.

"Do you like this?" I inquired of the shadows behind me.

The presence leans against me and covers my hands with his. A tremor echoes through me like a wave on the ocean.

"I apologize, Inquisitor. I was an ass the other day. It's my speciality. Will you forgive me?"

His words whispered into my ear send another wave of warmth through me. I try to turn in his arms, but he stopped me by tightening the grip on my hands. Trapped between him and the table. Just breathing is becoming a challenge.

"Circe, don't make me ask again."

The silent darkness of the undercroft, the roaring water cascading down to the valley floor and the heat of the man behind me rip my controls away. I want him to touch me the way Bull did that night. I want him to want me, but he doesn't so why is he torturing me this way?

"Oh, Dorian. I can't stay mad at you. It is I who owe you an apology. I did strike you."

"I deserved it. Now, tell me who's earned your favor by making them armor from this delightful leather? The Bull?"

I shook my head.

"Let me think, who else do you fancy?"

"Don't you know?"

Dorian wrapped his arms around me with his hands still holding mine. Please let me go.

"Will you tell me?"

"He's handsome and brave, with impeccable manners and education. He's a bit of a curmudgeon, though. I fear that aspect will only get worse with age." Using the leather as an excuse to move away, I extracted myself from Dorian's embrace in time to see a frown furrowing his brow.

"And what is the scoundrel's name?"

"We leave at first light," I replied ignoring his question. He didn't like that one bit. For once I felt as if I had the upper hand. "Get some rest, Lord Pavus." I left him frowning at the shadows.

The next morning dawned clear and cold. Our horses stamped and snorted plumes of ice crystals and frost coated their noses. Poor things. We should get moving. For their sake and because I'm ready to be done with the Western Approach. I'd received a letter this morning from Dorian's father. Something about wanting his son to meet with a retainer in Redcliff. Julianna intercepted the thick parchment and passed it to me. Why Magister Pavus needed a go-between was a question which must be left until after this mission.

My let's-get-it-done-attitude seemed to spread to the entire group. We travelled quietly, everyone keeping to their own thoughts. Even Cole road quietly. Later after we made camp, I carried a bowl of stew to Cole, who sat by the fire applying a wet stone to his knives. That slithering sound of stone on steel always makes my skin crawl. But he stopped when I approached and accepted the bowl with a smile.

"Sit for a moment, Inquisitor?"

I should have known… with my stomach tied in knots, I hadn't eaten more than two mouthfuls of supper. He'd have noticed all that, of course. I might as well sit down by the fire and face Cole's questions.

"A fine brave man."

Here it comes. I let my head drop into my hands. "I know he is."

"A battle rages inside him. Here with us, he's learning to quiet the fighting."

I chuckled, "Well, we've all come here to fight our own demons, haven't we Cole?"

"A good pun, My Lady. Why do you make him fight you? One of you must stop running, so the other can catch up."

"You must know that I'm not his type."

Cole thought for a moment while he used a heel of bread to scrape the bowl clean. "You are exactly his type. Shall I list the evidence for you?"

"No, please don't." Enough. I took his empty bowl and said goodnight. But dear Cole wasn't through with me.

"It matters not that you are a woman. You are what he needs. You are the light of peace at the end of his personal battles. He wonders, will she still be there when I'm done?"

"Cole," my voice rising with a warning tone. I had to deliberately fold my hands inside my pockets to still the trembling. "You see too much."

"But it is you who came to me, tonight. Your torment keeps you from resting. Understand, My Lady. There is no man for him in Tevinter who could be what he needs. No one to stand by his side. He feels the pull of Tevinter, and it's strong. He stays by your side because you inspire him. He wonders, can I do these things? But he will need you by his side to give him the strength he gives you now. Good night, My Lady."

He folded in on himself, and I knew our conversation was at an end. I got to my feet, my thoughts boiling. Across the fire Dorian watched me. How much had he heard?

I almost made it to my tent. There was Dorian right behind me.

"You didn't eat."

"Dorian, you know me. I rarely eat the night before a battle…"

"And you never sleep. I know. I brought you something to tempt you. Sit."

Before I could rebuff his order, he set a bag in my hands. A delicious sweet scent drifted to my nose. "What have you done, Lord Pavus"? He didn't answer because he's waiting for me to invite him to sit down. "You don't have to ask, Dorian. Please."

With a bit of magic, he created a globe of light. The light illuminated the boyish eyes hoping I would enjoy the surprise. Inside the bag I found dates. Not just any dates. The dates from the Forbidden Oasis. I'd nearly fallen off a cliff to reach a cluster. A precious and thoughtful gift.

When I opened my mouth to say thanks, he stopped me. "Eat."

Sweet and meaty, I managed to eat three of them before admitting defeat. The mission chased my thoughts and muddied my mind. My insides churned with the worry. No matter how many times I thought it through, I still worried about my team. What new foe awaited us? What if we ran out of potions…the ammo cache…almost nonexistent...

The bag lifted from my hands, the ties of my jacket loosened and the scarf pulled free. Although I had nothing to do with it, my boots slid off my feet. The weight of a wolf skin pressed me down to my bedroll. I couldn't fight it. Didn't try.

Gentle fingers stroked my brow, carding loose strands of hair back from my face. Each fingertip sent a calming wave to sooth my thoughts and tempted me to sleep.

"Sleep, Inquisitor. No dreams of Haven tonight."

I stirred against the magic weighing me down.

"Shh, of course, I know about your nightmares. Fighting to arm the trebuchet in time. The snow, the cold and your solitary trek to find us again. They said you almost died of exposure. Sleep, my dearest Inquisitor."

Just before I drifted away, I heard movement and the flap of the tent opening and closing. Then Cole's gentle voice.

"You are very kind, Dorian. It suits you. Although, she will probably try to kill you in the morning for what you have done. Do not worry, I will protect you."


	9. Blowing Sands

 

* * *

**Dorian**

By the grace of Andraste, our dear Inquisitor is a stubborn woman!

There she sits astride her horse, tall and regal as any empress. As if this were a simple morning ride with her courtiers. The Inquisition needs her alive, not dead on the filthy sands of the Western Approach. Which is, by the way, everything she described and more. More sand, more dirt whipped up by the wind and baked into cinders by the sun.

She hasn't spoken a word to me in three days.

There's sand in every...well, everywhere. And this sun! I wished for a hat like Cole's to keep the sun off my face. With my skin blasted by the wind and my eyes squinted closed against the sun, I shall look as old as my father and very quickly! We crawl into our beds each night after a hard day's ride. There's no one to talk too and the wine ran out yesterday morning. There's also the fact of my boredom and I don't do boredom. One must keep one's spirits up somehow.

We topped a ridge and before us, rising out of the desert like a mountain carved by the weather is Fort Adamant. Dusty, windy and hot the trip through the desert left us all short tempered. Even the horses drooped as we trudged the final yards through the sand. Varric and I had been volleying insults back and forth since breakfast. I had to entertain myself somehow?

"You are correct, Inquisitor. A dismal place indeed." I commented to Circe with one eye on the Dwarf. "Then, what can one expect from an Orlesian Fortress built by Dwarves? No good could come from that, yes? Shortcuts, bribes, cheap craftsmanship…"

"...Maybe you'd like to live here permanently, Mage. The sand, the sun and your bleached bones. Nothing left but that droopy mustache. Until finally the wind blows even those overwaxed whiskers into oblivion."

Success! I paused a moment before replying.

"I suppose the long graceful bones of my limbs, high cheekbones and noble brow would be memorable and certainly more recognizable than bones indistinguishable from that of a dead nug."

"Speaking of wax, Dorian. Wasn't that your scream I heard the other night. I understand waxing chest hair is fun, indeed."

"You might try it some time. Those sprouting blond things sticking out over your ill-fitting shirt are attractive to…anyone?"

"Which one of is getting more action, mage? You or me?"

"Enough!" The Inquisitor twisted in the saddle to shout at us. She quickly hid her smile before turning back to the path. Of course, getting her to relax was my main objective and it pleased me that I'd succeeded.

At the Inquisitor's signal we pulled our horses up hidden in a shady spot just out of sight of the battlements. The jetstone and metallic walls rose forebodingly from the desert floor. We saw no soldiers on the ramparts and no herald signaled our approach. All the more reason for us to be on our guard. We couldn't risk our horses inside that pile of stone. Circe wisely led us team back down the hill toward a hidden shady spot with a nice pond.

She's making a tactical trade off leaving the horses in the open. There's plenty of wildlife around here with appetite enough for the horse flesh. I tied mine up with a loose knot to give the poor thing a chance to run.

The walk to the gates took an hour and the Fort rose menacingly above us with every step. I let my thoughts wander back to Crestwood where we met up with this fellow named Hawke. Our journey to the Approach granted me my first look at him. I hadn't met him when he showed up at Skyhold. Although, I had to endure Varrick and Circe's gushing over his brooding good looks and bravery. I took a good look at him. Now, there's a man past his prime and no mistake.

The Warden rushed to greet us with grave news. Apparently, all the Wardens had been summoned back to Orlais by Warden Commander Clarel. The man was quite beside himself.

"He thinks he can stop the Blight if he throws enough Warden's at it. They've gone mad, Inquisitor! There's reports they hear the call of the Archdemon. Inquisitor, I believe Corypheus may have a hand in this. Warden-Commander Clarel calls for blood magic to make a final stand in the Deep Roads and end all Blights forever." He took a deep breath, only to choke on his words.

"I-I hear it too. But I can resist. If they find me out, " he pointed toward the fort, they'll brand me a traitor. You must help us, Inquisitor!"

When the Inquisitor didn't respond he hurried on, his words growing more frantic with every word.

"The Wardens believed Corypheus died by Hawke's hand!. Through my own investigation, I believe that the call felt by the Wardens is not being produced by an Archdemon, but by Corypheus, in order to command the Wardens."

Cullen met us inside the gate just as the Warden stopped for a breath. The air around us smelled of sulfur, decay and evil. He rounded on her and shouted something I couldn't make out. Obviously, they concocted some plan. Anyone could see it was time to move or time to die. I didn't question, simply readied myself to follow her lead.

The fight to the top of the battlements took all our strength. Twice I had to stop and assist Circe to her feet. Her face pale and the fear in her eyes tore at me. We were killing innocent people. It was a tragedy, but we had no means to stop the control Corypheus had over them. Standing here with her with ash and fire raining down on us I realized if my personal line was killing Alexious then this must be hers.

"I'm here, Circe. You're not alone." I murmured into her ear, while he held her upright until she regained her feet.

Slowly she focused her eyes on my face. I smiled, "Are you ready, Inquisitor? One last stairway."

She nodded. "And then we will end this."

She straightened her back and moved away from me. I watched her hands grip the staff with renewed strength. Then she began to move away, and I followed, but then she turned back to me. To my delighted surprise she pressed her cheek to mine.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Dorian."

The simple gesture cut through me. Hot blood pounded through my body and I felt myself harden with desire. Wholly inappropriate, yes? I couldn't move my feet or look away. No. Stop this. This wasn't me. My knees gave and I grabbed for something to hold me up.

I want to pick this woman-child up in my arms take her away from here and...Andraste's heart! I wanted to make love to her. To press her down in sweet grass and touch her curves. Smooth the fears away from her brow and kiss her mouth until she called out to me for fulfillment. Desperate primal need threaten to carry me away when the stone walls shook beneath our feet. The walls cracked and a great roar pounded off the stones. I watched her face turn from exhaustion to determination, then Circe ran up the burning wooden stairs ahead of us. I shook off my disbelief and endured Bull's laughter as we charged after her.

The fight up here in the stinking air was one horror after another. Bull charged in knocking the worst of them back, while Circe and I tossed fire spells to wear them down. I cannot describe the smell of their burning rotten flesh. They seemed to melt in the sun and the heat of our fire magic. It sickened me.

My thoughts kept turning back to her, taunting me with her every step. I wanted those hands on me. I wanted to lay naked with her. I wanted to be the one she turned to when she was ready. What was I going to do? What could I do?

I picked a fight with her.

"Admit it. You fancy Hawke! You let him survive over Stroud." I blasted the demon menacing Circe's back, but she spun and beat me to it, almost singing me in the process. Anger flared.

"Stroud made his own choice!"

Circe stepped back to stand at my shoulder and we combined our magic to send a demon to oblivion.

"Hawke will bring you nothing but grief. Can you not see he is a broken man?" I shouted at her over the roar of the fires and the screaming of the demons.

"He suffers only what plagues all of us. Once Corypheus is defeated we can all begin to heal."

I chased her up a set of burning stairs, the wood cracking under our feet as we climbed. "And you believe he'll simply fall into your arms, so you can heal him yourself? You are naive indeed, Inquisitor."

That stopped her. She whirled, her mage's staff smoking with intent and anger. "Not, that it's any of your business, But Hawke and I spoke…"

"...And pledged yourselves to one another? How romantic. A silly, childish romantic hope. You have more important things to consider then girlish musings about marriage and children."

"Marriage and children? You don't know me at all, Mage. I think that is what you want."

"I?"

"You bring it up often enough!"

"That is ridiculous. Don't change the subject!"

"You make an admirable show of following your own path. Yet, Tevinter pulls at you, calling you home. But who will be there for you when you return? The local bathhouse or another boy whose name you cannot remember at dawn?"

"Your cut goes deep, Inquisitor."

"You frustrate me! I forget myself! Perhaps it's the Pride Demon still working within me."

"I reject that excuse, I watched you cut him down yourself. What would you have me do, Circe. What you say is all true and I feel no desire to return to those nameless, faceless nights of indulgence. Why did you chose Hawke. The most unsuitable and unattainable…"

"What do you care?"

Damn her! I grabbed her by the shoulders and pinned her against a battlement. There was no time for this foolishness. There could be an arrow in my back or the touch of a demon. Jealousy fueled my anger and I shook her.

"Tell, me! Why did you chose him?"

"I have no wish to return to my cloistered world or my father's court! I have a taste for politics, for leading and being something more than I was."

"Why did you chose him? Some girlish crush perhaps? A last act of rebellion? The man's heart was cut out long ago. Why him?"

"You assume much, Mage. He's respectful and attentive to my safety and comfort."

"Oh, listen to the pride of Lady Trevelyan! Why do you not use the royal 'we' Inquisitor? That's his job, his destiny and his honor. He could do no less. Haven't you noticed although you smile prettily at him and try to draw him out that he has no eyes for you?"

"He talks to me and he doesn't yell. We have many interests in common."

"You are a fool. He knows only of battle and death. When this is all over he will fade back into legend."

"That's not true. He's found resolution with the Inquisition."

"And closure with you? I doubt you have much in the way of experience to satisfy a man as jaded as Hawke. You may gift him your precious virginity, then he will ride away to follow a path only he knows. Why, in Andraste's name, have you set your sights on him?"

"Because I cannot have you!"

"Cannot…? I am here, now, for you. For as long as you need me."

"Until Corypheus' defeat. Then what? You ride away, back to your life in Tevinter and I'm left there to spend my days winding down to spinsterhood, while they politic their way to support my successor. Perhaps I will never marry."

"The nonsense you speak! Of course, you'll marry and have hundreds of little Inquisitors and live happily ever after."

"You're misplaced jealousy is nonsense. You'll need a good wife. One who'll stand by your side through the politics of your home land."

"And you have someone picked out for me? Lilliana, perhaps?"

The fight went out of her. I stepped away from her, shocked at my indiscretion. There it was, she said the words and my blood heated again.

"I'd make a good wife for you Dorian!"

"Circe?"

"Excuse me, Lord Pavus." She made a quick bow and rejoined the fight. While I stood there like a green lad with a broken heart.

Then slowly, Circe closed the rifts and the wardens seemed to come back to themselves. It was pitiful. When they saw us they dropped their weapons and slid to their knees. Many began to weep, like small children who carelessly break their toys.

In a handful of minutes, Circe and I turned from slaughtering to healing. I doubt any of us will be the same after this day.

We spent three days there, while Circe and Cullen made plans to improve and fortify the Fortress. What did I do with my time? I found the wine cache and got properly drunk. Blind, stinking and I believe I did puke, drunk. It didn't work. Thoughts of her taunted me. The swirl of her long black hair releasing the perfume of her soap. The firelight in the great hall casting lights into her blue eyes. Her smile when something pleased her. Watching her in the courtyard gardening, her long-fingered hands so graceful and sure when the pushed the seeds into the rich earth. Catching her unawares at her desk, writing into her journal the quill scratching furiously on the parchment as if she couldn't get her thoughts down fast enough.

The journey home took just short of forever.


	10. Felix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm about to seriously mess with canon in this chapter. Oh, wait. I've been doing that all along! BTW, thank you for the kind words about this story. For those of you who write your own stories, you know how much it means to hear from readers. I do appreciate the feedback and thanks for dropping by.

**Circe**

The stars seemed to mock me tonight as I stared up at them from my bedroll. I'm tired and my eyes are gritty, but I can find no rest. The last five days changed me as nothing else had. Those poor men and woman at the fort. There is so much sorrow in my heart for them. I want to weep. Do something to cleanse this clot of grief and anger that tears at my heart. My chest ached for release, but there are no tears, or emotion I can express. Only a hollowness, like an empty seashell.

Perhaps it is guilt which plagues me? When I forced my eyes closed I see only their tortured faces. Their screams echo in my head, pounding between my ears so that I cannot think straight. How is it that I cannot grieve for them? Am I now so hardened? An emotionless soldier who knows only how to blindly follow orders, my duties and kill on demand. My beautiful mage's staff is so stained with blood I'm not sure I can bring myself to touch it again.

I flipped on my side to face our dreary little campfire. Across the smoke and dwindling flames Dorian watches me. Yesterday, in the heat of battle, he named me childish and perhaps I am. I feel nothing but admiration for Hawke. Why did I allow Dorian to goad me into admitting such feelings for him? If, I am the changed woman I felt myself to be then I must understand and gain control of myself. While I consider this, Dorian and I regard each other across the fire.

I wonder which one of us fell asleep first?

We arrived in Skyhold by noon the next day. I left the briefings to Cullen and fled to my chambers. Hardly the behavior of an Inquisitor, but this changed woman decided to take some time for herself. Before heading upstairs I stopped in the kitchens and ordered a celebration feast.

And hour later, clean and wearing fresh clothes, but no less troubled I sat down at my desk to pore out my thoughts to Felix.

_Felix_

_Greetings from Skyhold and the Inquisition. I hope this letter finds you well. Winter moved in while we were away on a mission. Today the clouds over the mountains lay dark and heavy with snow. As I sit at my desk writing this letter I feel the same heaviness inside my heart. It grows by the hour. I can no longer sleep because of the dreams and any loud noise sends me into a fearful state, as if a demon is about to attack._

_I ordered a victory feast to celebrate our successes at Fort Adamant. They will make a place for me at the head of the table, but I know, in my heart that I cannot muster the energy to attend. By Andraste's light. It was no victory, it was a massacre of innocents. I tried to grieve their deaths, tried to find some sense of righteousness to hang on too. But there is nothing left in me, not even tears._

_Felix? I seek your council. I did not receive the same training as you and Dorian. Is this a symptom of illness? Ill humours of mana? Some malaise which plagues mages at times of stress or violence? Since returning to Skyhold I discovered I cannot heal the smallest hurt of the youngest child. Nor can I bring myself to touch my filthy mage's staff._

_I accepted the responsibilities required of The Inquisitor, so I must go on and I will go on. The taking of Fort Adamant granted the Inquisition an excellent strategic advantage. We must count it as a great victory. But this dark sickness grows inside me and frightens with its power because I cannot find the means or the magic to control it._

_Your Friend, Circe_

With the letter sealed and given to a courier I decided to spend the evening at something which will tire me out and take my mind off my troubled thoughts. With my hair braided out of the way, I donned my oldest set of leathers and headed down to the Undercroft. As I take the hammer in hand, I imagine my parent's reaction if they discovered their daughter laboring away, as rough as any village blacksmith, and it lightened my heart.

~o0o~

A month after our return from the Western Approach, and my nightmares began to ease. For that I was thankful, but the mood of the castle is somber. We moved silently through the frozen corridors of Skyhold as if we have nothing to say to each other or perhaps afraid of what might be said is too difficult to hear. The evening meals at the feasting table are quiet and without the usual sound of music. Bull spends his evenings with his Chargers at the inn, gambling away his earnings. There are some days, I want to join him in the oblivion of drink. The locals say this is the coldest winter in memory. And Dorian? I have not seen him in many days. If he wishes to be alone, then I understand, but I miss my friend. I could, as the Inquisitor, summon him. No, I will not stoop to that.

Winter closed in around our mountain home and the days grew as short and dark as our mood. Tempers grew short and judging from my ornate throne because almost a daily occurrence. My people hadn't suddenly become criminals. They were just bored. Then one day, just as the last light flickered out behind the mountains the guards announced a visitor approaching the gates.

A visitor! We haven't seen a drummer or wandering healer in many days. The entire town ran to the gates, myself among them. Just as I arrived they pulled the man from the saddle and led the tired horse to the stables. Wrapped head to foot, we couldn't make out his identity. In moments we had him inside the great hall by the stone hearth. Gradually, he came to himself and pushed the hood away from his face. When I pushed the mug of mulled cider into his hands the hood frozen with ice and dirt fell back from his head.

It was Felix smiled into my eyes and accepted the mug from my hands. My jaw dropped and then I shouted. "I don't care what he's doing or where he is, get Dorian in here immediately."

About a dozen people ran to do my bidding. Well, sometimes being the Inquisitor does have a few perks. Don't worry, I count that beautiful chamber upstairs as one of them.

Someone pushed a chair behind me and I sat down, taking one of Felix's cold hands into mine. The smudges under his eyes and hollow cheeks gave his face a haunted look. What in Andraste's name is he doing here? With my next words, I knew I'd have something to add to my guilt. For him to take such a journey with his illness was unthinkable. Yet, here he sat, in my hall.

"What are you doing here, my friend?"

"Your letter, Circe. Your letter…" he managed his voice a harsh whisper as if every word a painful effort. "If you couldn't find counsel with Dorian then I…"

He began to cough. A deep wet rumble from his chest that sounded like the rattling bones of the dead. I dropped to my knees in front him. Fighting my own fears, I held a linen cloth to his mouth until he could catch his breath. My fears were realized when I noticed the frothy blood on the cloth. I managed to conceal it in my robe, just as Dorian joined us.

"Felix! You crazy fool. It is good to see you. We are all but locked in by this weather. How did you… forget how. Why did you make this journey?"

Felix turned tired eyes to his childhood friend. "The letter. Circe needed me," he gasped as if that were all the answer required. Then his head fell back in a faint.

My guilt bloomed fresh, but I managed to find my voice. "Take him to my quarters and go carefully. Dorian, he'll need fresh clothes. Summon a manservant to bathe and warm him. A plate of meat, cheese and more mulled wine to my chambers. Move!"

For the remainder of the day and night, Dorian and I tended to Felix. We used snow to cool his skin when he sweated with fever. When he shivered we wrapped him in blankets. Dorian held him when he began to thrash from the fever, then just as quickly he turned to shivering. The words he mumbled where almost unintelligible but we both hear him say our names. Then for several minutes he'd shout at his father. We'd both watched soldiers die this way. It was horrible to watch.

Every hour or two we could get him to sip some broth. We worked silently, never making eye contact and never speaking. The time dragged by our silence tension mounted each time we made an effort to stay out of each other's way or find a way not to speak. When finally, exhausted and saddened to my soul, Felix began to sleep peacefully I dropped into a chair. It was only then, as dawn cast its first rays across the land that Dorian turned guarded eyes to me. His rich dark hair normally so immaculate fell over his forehead, I longed to smooth it back. I dared not.

"What is this letter he spoke of? Have you dragged a dying man here with your childish prattling?"

"I understand your anger and even your hatred, Lord Pavus. But try, if you can, to stir up a decent amount of respect for my position."

His eyes widened. "I do not hate you, Inquisitor. Why would you think such a thing? Never mind. Tell me of this letter."

I shook my head before the words began to form. Anguish, built upon grief, built upon guilt. I could no longer tell my friend what was in my heart. Down to saying hurtful things to each other the easy camaraderie is gone. And friendship? Vanquished in the rush of words meant to wound. Perhaps I should ask him to escort Felix home where he can die in peace? My work here with the Inquisition is not done, but Dorian is free and may travel where he wishes. And so I made up my mind, that I would say my goodbyes to Felix. When the roads cleared, I would order Dorian to escort him home.

"The letter is none of your concern, Lord Pavus. Merely confidences between two friends. Please, take your leave and go and seek some rest. I will stay with Felix. If he awakens, I will send for you. Thank you for your service to the Inquisition. Good day, sir."

When the door slammed at the bottom of the stairs I put him out of my mind and set to work. The soaking linen, I set by the fire to dry. The cold food, I poured back in the pot and called for fresh soup. Once I'd cleaned up from the night, I called in the manservant to bathe Felix and change the bedclothes.

I vowed to myself I would not stop working until all thoughts of Dorian released me from their grip. After a bath and change of clothes, I'd just sat down with a book, when Felix opened his eyes.

"Inquisitor?"

"Felix!" I called out and rushed to the bedside. We joined hands easily, like old friends do.

"My Lady, am I in the Inquisitor's bedchamber… Indeed, in her very bed?"

I could only grin back at him. If he felt good enough to make a joke, then he was on the mend. "You caught a fever. Dorian and I despaired of speaking to you again. Oh, Felix. It's so good to have you here. As soon as you're up to walking around I want to show you Skyhold. It's beautiful."

"Circe," he looked at me seriously to stop my chattering. "How are you?"

It was time for truth. The man had almost died to come to my aid.

"It was after Adamant." I gripped his hands and searched for courage. "Felix, I could not rid myself of the horrors. The sights, the smells and sounds clamored in my head for attention. I couldn't sleep or eat for fear I'd lose my grip on reality. A-as if the Fade were pulling at me and I couldn't stop it."

"Why didn't you go to Dorian?"

Little did he know. "I couldn't, Felix. He is angry with me. But, I never expected you to come to me. It is good to see you though. You'll stay? For as long as you wish? Until Spring, at least."


	11. Cole Cuts Deep But Kindly

**Dorian**

* * *

 

_Oh, fucking perfect._

She dismissed me, Dorian Pavus, an Altus Mage from Tevinter like a common serving boy? She’s changed alright, but not for the better. Bloody wench. This was not to be born! Furious, tired, and concerned about Felix I rushed headlong down the stairs.

“Andraste’s tit’s!” The silver toe cap of my boot caught on something and down I went. No doubt I tripped over some female bit of frippery. Now I’m staring up at the ceiling.

“Dorian?”

Cole made an appearance while I counted my bones to see which one broke from my fall down the last two steps. I’m almost sure I can’t move my right leg because the bloody silver spur on my boot is gouged into the wood.

“Good morning, Cole.” See? I can be polite. There he is, perched on the railing just above my head.

“Why do you struggle against the natural order of life?”

Then he closed his eyes and I thought he might disappear. But no, I’m fated to hear more of Cole’s lofty advice. I did manage to roll to my feet and metaphorically and physically dust myself off. What did he say, the natural order of life? Oh, of course. Men, women, marriage, children, and all that rot.

“You worry you’ll end up like your father,” he said as if that were that were the answer to why the stars hung in the sky.

He could cut to the bone, this one. So it wouldn’t do to get impatient with him. But the stairwell of the Inquisitor’s quarters was not the place to have this conversation. Luckily I got him to follow me outside. Where I found a wall to lean against and stilled myself for whatever he might say.

“You have everything at your fingertips to avoid such a fate.”

“Cole. Your advice is well taken. I’ve been up all night and I’m ready for a draft of spiced wine and sleep. So unless you intend to follow me to the latrines, the inn, my bathing chamber and bed, I suggest we save this conversation for another day.”

That seemed to satisfy him. He peered at me from under that great hat of his, “I’ll watch over them for you. They are both sleeping now. He is very ill, isn’t he? I wonder…if I were to…”

“Good day, Cole.” I left him to his mutterings.

My room offered little refuge. Thoughts of Felix nagged at me. That he would receive the best care possible didn’t worry me. What did nag at me is the possibility that Circe created a very real barrier between a cherished friend and myself. As soon as the roads were clear I’d take him home and stay with him until the end. How I might pay for it was another matter. My candle gutted out by the time I figured a way to finance the trip.

First thing in the morning, I’d go up and put the idea to him. I’d sell that ridiculous amulet and Felix and I would go home to the world where we belonged. Away from Cole and the Inquisitor who created more questions than either of us could answer. I made it as far as the latrines and my room to pick up the amulet before heading to the keep.

After a sleepless night, the Orlesian shopkeeper had just opened her small stand when I approached while dawn cast a thick layer of ice fog across the ground. What were either of us doing out here at this hour? Ten minutes of haggling got me a fair bit of gold for my amulet. More than enough to get us back to Tevinter. A tight pain caught me unawares when I my intentions finally sunk in. No, I thought and pushed it away. Back in Tevinter we could fall back into the predictable life of two wealthy noblemen. Endless rounds of parties, sex with stray men out looking for entertainment without needless attachment and I’d stay drunk through it all.

Until my face and body began to change and bloat with age and those men no longer sought me out. Then what? By then Felix and my family would be died. Here, I have friends. Not friends. No. We fight together over a common cause. When it is over we’ll be strangers again. That goes for that black-haired witch at the top of the castle, too.

I ignored the greetings of the castle residents and took the stairs to Circe’s chamber two at a time. With any luck—I glared at the mountains hidden behind the ice fog—Spring will come early this year.

The sound of laughter met me on the stairs.

“If you wish to eat, My Lord. You’ll have to work for it.” Circe said with the mischievous laughter, I’d heard once or twice and never directed at me.

Slowing my steps I stopped on the stairs when I could just see into the room. Circe sat at her small dining table smiling at the Felix. My friend, using the furniture for support found his way to the table and dropped heavily into the chair.

“You’re a taskmaster, Inquisitor. I see why you’re so formidable a leader.”

“Nonsense,” she said, pouring him tea. You needed to get out of bed before that chest infection took hold of you again. A healer at my father’s court claims laying in bed allowed the humours to pool and linger.

Then I watched my friend, lean forward and take the Inquisitor’s hand in his. “Thank you, Circe. You and Dorian saved my life.”

He sat back in his chair and watched Circe pour her own tea. In fact, she did everything but look him in the eye. I know her and I know Felix. She knows what’s coming.

“Now, tell me, Inquisitor. What’s this tempest brewing between you and Dorian?”

“We fight. During a mission we fight side by side, synchronized and strong. Afterwards, we continue to fight.”

“Circe?”

She set her cup down with a clatter. “What does it matter? Soon this fight will be over. Once our victory is assured and the world set to rights, Dorian and I will become what we were before.”

“What do you want from him?”

“Oh, Felix. I want what I have now. I have his friendship. Just as The Bull and Cullen and the rest are my friends. Perhaps not true friends, but we’re brother’s in arms. We fight well together! But…”

Felix caught her on her second trip around the room. I watched him pull her clenched hands out of her sleeves and hold them to his chest.

“You are not the same woman I met in Redcliff. You’re a leader and a soldier. Somewhere inside your heart, you found a fierce and beautiful courage. Can you not grant that Dorian is capable of change, as well?”

Well, I don’t have to stand for this. The man is half dead. What did he think he would do next? Kiss her? I’m the only one around here with any right to tough the Inquisitor. By Andraste, I’ll make him see the light. She fit perfectly...whether in a fight or offering comfort, she belonged at my side.

My feet carried me to the top of the stairs before I knew what I planned to say or do. That I was probably about to make a fool out of myself didn’t occur to me. His hands cupped her face, sliding his fingertips into her hair.

“You’ve also grown more lovely, Circe.”

Oh, sure. Turn on that famous Tevinter charm when it suits him. Yes? What does he want from her? What could she possibly want from him that I cannot give her?

I watched him press the back of her fingers to his lips. “Thank you for taking care of me last night. I feel much better this morning...stronger.”

She leaned into him and he caught her around the waist. The rutting bastard intended to kiss her! Stronger, my sculpted ass! I’d never been jealous of anything in my life. Never had to be. This morning, watching them together, jealousy rose like bile in my throat burning away all common sense. Damn him! I’ll call him out, that’s what I’ll do.

I heard, “You’re so good for me, Felix,” just before I caught him by the collar and spun him around to face me.

He didn't try to fight me or defend himself. Odd. My fists didn’t hesitate and I took a swing at him. I was that angry. He was after my Circe and jealousy guided my actions. What if she’d grown tired of our fighting? I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her to him. Not even to my best friend. The man I loved like a brother. I’d have much to explain to Andraste when this was over.

He caught my fist easily with a blocking spell.

Circe didn’t back away, she didn’t even react. In a moment, my vision cleared and I saw how they watched me. Felix with his familiar eyebrow climbing into his hairline and Circe with her hands folded calmly at her waist with that damn imperious smile on her face.

“You knew I was there...” The air rushed out of me and I dropped into a chair. “...You knew I was there.”

“Give us some credit, Dorian. We are mages. You didn’t actually think you were sneaking up on us?” That was from Circe, looking down at me, much the way my mother used to when she was about to scold me.

Then Felix hauled me out of the chair and wrapped a hand around the back of my neck. “You great fool. I love you, but you’re a man who leads with his heart and it never fails to get you into trouble.”

I relaxed and dropped my forehead to his. “I thought you liked trouble?”

“Now that’s settled, why don’t you join us for breakfast, Dorian. You look done in. Didn’t you sleep at all last night?”

And that was, as they say, that. Circe made a place for me and we sat and talked and drank at least three pots of tea while we enjoyed breakfast.


	12. In Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: This chapter is for Maamelissa and Nashuuna

* * *

“Accepting all I've done and said  
I want to stand and stare again  
'Til there's nothing left out,  
It remains there in your eyes  
Whatever comes and goes  
I will hear your silent call  
I will touch this tender wall  
'Til I know I'm home again,”  
Peter Gabriel, In Your Eyes

* * *

 

  
**Circe**

  
Arm in arm Felix and I strolled over the grounds of my beloved Skyhold. Delighted to show off my new home I spoke excitedly about the fort and the presence of the Inquisition seemed to breathe life back into her. Call me a romantic, but I believed she rewarded us for our efforts with sunny days and mild weather. Yes, this great pile of stones felt like home the first day we walked across the bridge and entered her gates. The first time Solace guided me up that last path, and I climbed that old granite mound.

I loved the ancient tumbled walls, the great hall, and endless corridors. My practical mind knew that war, death, and disease had been the constant companions of this fortress. But not today. Today I chose to remember the hundreds of feet who walked these halls before the Inquisition. In a moment of peace, walked through the gardens and enjoyed the sun on their shoulders. And I wonder, had they enjoyed the garden and gazebo as much as I?

As we walked along, I noticed a lighter step to Felix’s stride. I fancied the fresh air and sunshine had put some color into cheeks. “Do you think Dorian will forgive us for teasing him?” I asked briefly laying my head against his shoulder.

He patted my hand. “He cares for you. Of course, he’ll forgive you.”

I shook my head but stayed silent. Why does everyone think Dorian cares for me? All we do is argue. Yes, we fight well together. Over time, we developed an instinct about each other. I know where he is, and I notice he never needs to look to seek out my position. Afterward, exhausted and filthy from battle, when I need him most the silence returns. Earlier, at breakfast, I felt some of the old friendship. Perhaps it was Felix’s presence? I’m sure the only reason he shows me affection is a prelude to teasing me.

With a tug on his arm, I steered Felix toward the gazebo so he could sit and rest for a moment. Felix caught my chin in his hand.

“You don’t believe me.”

He’s caught me out. “I think, I care for him. Experience, out here, away from Ostwick and the Chantry taught me beliefs, wishes and dreams do not come true for the asking.”

“A cynic?” He laughed. The sound of it rang a healthy tone through the morning air. “I didn’t think it possible. Not Circe.”

“I’m only a cynic and occasionally a heretic in the midst of battle. Afterward, when everyone is safe and home I think more fondly of Andraste.”

Felix put his arm around me, “Then you are no different than the rest of us, my friend.”

With the sun warm on our shoulders, we sat in comfortable friendship. Spring seemed to peek at us from every corner of the garden. What I did not notice was Dorian watching us from an upper floor window. If I had, the sad look in his brown eyes might have warned me of the consequences of our innocent chat in the garden.  
~o0o~  
Just two days later The Inquisition received an invitation to a ball at the Empress's palace in Orlais. Nothing less than formal dress uniforms to cover the fact we were there to defend the Empress's life. How that got to be our job is a bit of a mystery. Regardless it would be impolite and political suicide to refuse the invitation.

They left it to me to decide the look and style of our Inquisition dress uniform. If I thought to ask Dorian his opinion, he was nowhere to be found. Finally, we set out for Orlais with a wagon load of clothes and a closed carriage for Josephine and Leliana. The rest of us rode horseback, as we were accustomed to. I think everyone but Cullen sulked all the way to the palace. He was happy to get out of the confines of Skyhold and the endless days of paperwork and drilling.

After we broke our fast, Cullen would ride with me, and we talked about the kinds of things there never seems to be enough time for. He made me laugh with his stories of soldiering, and we shared the common stories of life in the Chantry. All the while, Dorian kept to the back of the train or sat in the wagon. I missed my friend but was no longer sure of the path back to that friendship. On the fourth night, he found me bathing in a stream.

The moonlight cast pearl streaks of light through the trees shrouding them in darkness and casting eerie shadows in their path. After swimming to the center of the pond, I washed. Then leaned back to let myself float. The night took on a magical note with the moonlight flickering through the tall trees and my body floating effortlessly.

Thoughts of the Inquisition intruded on my reverie. But I wanted nothing to interfere with my moment of quiet, and I tried to force them away. The sounds and smells of the Hissing Wastes, Crestwood, the Hinterlands and the Western Approaches…the screams of the dying soldiers at Fort Adamant, the stench of the demons. With my heart pounding the Anchor flared to life and I cried out with the sudden pain.

How stupid of me to put myself at such risk! Cradling my hand, I fought to find the bottom of the pond. My feet struggled, I couldn’t use my arms, and I went under. The dark water closed over my head. Fighting the pain of the Anchor, I swam toward the surface. Until gasping, I came back up with my hair in my eyes.

The night is too dark, and I am alone and at its mercy. Green tendrils of smoky light seem to curl through the moonbeams. Is there a Rift nearby? Fear overrides my common sense. I cannot see the shoreline. The green miasma clutched at me with the chill of death.

Where is the shore? Why can I not see it?

The edge at last! But it’s not the edge. My feet cannot find the bottom. The green light caught me, and I cannot move. Where is my magic?

“Circe! Stop fighting. I’ve got you.” A warm hand carded through my hair and pushed it away from my face. The other took my aching left hand, smoothing out the pain with his strong fingers “What are you doing out here?”

“Don’t scold me, Dorian.” I dropped my head against his leather shirt careful to avoid the metallic ornaments only to find something very different. He’s not wearing his armor. He must have stripped to enter the water.

I wore the linen long-johns I typically wore on missions. They kept me warm and were more comfortable to wear under armor. The wet cloth hid nothing. Wrapped in his arms, I might as well have been naked.

My silly girlish fears dissipated in his embrace. The tickle of the magic in his hand made me shiver and sent a tendril of a different kind down my spine. A long breath, which I may have been holding all my life, sighed out of me, and I circled his trim waist with my arms, pressing my fingers into his muscled back.

Hands that could wield a killing spell of magical fire or gentle a girl suddenly scared of the dark burned into my skin. Against the wet linen, I counted each finger, the hard shape of his chest, the mage’s heart beating under my cheek and the warm evergreen scent of him.

“Andraste’s mercy, I thought you were drowning.”

Oh, no. I would not allow him to break this spell by speaking. I just shook my head enjoying the feel of his skin against my cheek. Then he shivered and forced my head back.

“I want to say something, and since you can’t run away from me.”

“Run away? I’ve never…”

He waved my protest away with his hand and the moment is, indeed over. For a little while, at least, my friend returned. Now, he’s back to scolding me. “Of course, you have. Since the night, you found me with that young man. I want to apologize, Circe.”

  
“Dorian, there’s nothing to apologize for. As for drowning…I must have dozed off and dreamed. I..” I ran out of words when our eyes caught and held. Dark and thick as the night around us, his brown eyes stared down at me. There is something there I don’t recognize. The cold water doesn’t hinder his reaction to my body against his. I shifted my hips against him, and he hissed. I learned more than I realized in those few moments with The Bull.

  
Instead of pushing me away, as I expected, he pushed my head down, holding it firm against his bare chest. I wonder if he might enjoy the feel of my teeth as Bull had. No, I’m not that brave. Secretly I can benefit from the feel of my breasts pressed against his flesh, his hands upon me and warm breath against my hair.

“Please, let me apologize.”

  
“If you must.” As if I’d just given him permission, he began to speak.

“You’re beautiful in the moonlight. My mother used to read me stories about the woodland fairies who stole the heart of an unwary traveler. Your hair shining under the light and your magic shimmering over your nude body. So ethereal. So beautiful. Circe! You captured me just as one of those Fairies in the story.”

Could this be true? He found me attractive? I wanted it. No, I do not believe it. Behind us, I hear Cullen and Cassandra calling our names. We cannot be found like this. The shy Chantry girl returned in full force, the passion cooled, and I ran from the embrace of the man I loved to the barrier of my armor.


	13. Shall We Dance?

* * *

"Shall we dance, on a bright cloud of music

Shall we fly

Shall we dance

Shall we then say goodnight and mean goodbye

Or per chance, when the last little star has left the sky

Shall we still be together with our arms about each other

And shall you be my new romance

On the clear understanding that this kind of thing can happen

Shall we dance, shall we dance, shall we dance" 

Shall We Dance, Rogers and Hammerstein. _The King and I_

* * *

**Dorian**

Apologies. I bore easily. Yes? It is the trait of the brilliant mind. What can I say? This scene with the Inquisitor and her teenage shyness grew stale with repetition. What have I, a grown man, in common with a girl young enough to be my daughter? Well, I’m not quite that old, but you see my point.

Am I too old for her? Possibly. The truth of it is, I am is too jaded for her. She has the world and her life in front of her, while there is little left in the world that does not bore me. Too much time spent drinking and whiling away free time with hollow sexual encounters left me with little to impress. Perhaps that is why I joined the Inquisition? I needed to get away from my father, my home and the empty days of excess. The timing was perfect. There is also the fact, that _she_ is a _she_ , after all. And since when have I found soft breasts and feminine curves alluring?

Now here I stand waist-deep in pond water freezing my balls off, with nothing to quiet this fucking arousal. Which, at this moment peeked from the water to remind me it needed some attention. But I can’t do that because here comes Cassandra and Cullen crashing through the brush. Thankfully, our dear Lady Inquisitor made her escape just in time to avoid their notice.

I sank down to hide—you know what—and wait for them to find me. It’s Cullen who sees me first.

“Oy, there, Mage. Have you seen the Inquisitor?”

 _Figures they weren't looking for me._ “It’s not my day to watch her, Commander. Came out here to bathe in some privacy. Obviously, I came to the wrong place.”

And with that I walked out of the water paying no attention to my state of arousal. When Cassandra’s eyes widened I managed to keep back a grin. Then Cullen averted his eyes, but not quick enough to keep the blush from betraying him.

 _Oh, really, Commander?_ Is there more to this great blond bear than meets the eye? “If I cannot have privacy to bathe, then perhaps I might have privacy to dress? With due respect and all that rot. If you don’t mind?”

I heard their feet moving away. Then Cassandra’s voice cut through the night air. “You’ll be no good to the Inquisitor in that state of mind, Mage. Perhaps you should do something about that?”

 _You fucking, uptight, holier-than-thou, bitch!_ Oh, my. I really am in a state.

“Dorian, I could stay behind and escort you back to camp.”

This came from Cullen and I’m sure he meant only for my safety. But, I’ve had enough. Really enough. “Not unless you plan to help me with this, Commander” That got him moving.

Now I’m alone and that’s fine. But what shall I do about this? Wait. It’s not a this or a that. It’s my goddamn aching co… No, I shan’t use such a vulgar word and no, I don’t have a name for him. Well, maybe once. There was this lovely tavern boy in Tevinter. He named it…what was it? Damn, now I’ve forgotten. And, I’ll be thrice damned if I jerk off over that soft little creature named Circe!

~o0o~

Our subdued little band pulled up to the Winter Palace just after sunset the next day. You really must see this place to believe your eyes. A simple description is never enough. The place screams excess, indulgence and coin. Most of the palace is done in the style you’d expect, with plenty of gold and silver and fancy carpets.

After a sleepless night and a long ride, I looked forward to a private room, a long hot bath, real and a few hours of sleep. One of the servants picked up my bags and indicated I follow him. Thank Andraste!

“Altus, if you’ll follow me, sir.”

Now that’s what I like to hear. My room overlooked the inner courtyard and large expanse of the gardens. The room was done in shades of blue silk and a large bed beckoned. A note written on expensive linen stock invited the Inquisitor’s party to a late supper in the Empress's private dining room. I chose my red armor to wear and set about making myself comfortable. First, a taste from the tray of thoughtfully laid out food, wine and a soak in the steaming tub.

And now, I will close the door and you will go away. A man needs...requires his privacy. Now, go!

~o0o~

The Empress served us herself from fine crystal and gilded trays. She thanked us for our service with the Inquisition and inquired after our comfort. Everyone, including me was on their best behavior. The talk flowed easily from topic to topic. She spoke to each of us, asking a small easily answered question. Cordial and warm, the time she spent with us seemed friendly and comfortable. This was a woman sure of her place in the world. It’s this type of woman who always attracted me. Women of power. All women have power. Even the lowest washerwomen has power over her man, her home and her children. Although most men never acknowledged and it and most women never use it. Women like the Empress and the Inquisitor knew instinctively how to wield their power. I watched them speak quietly as if they were old friends. I felt proud of Circe.

The Inquisitor sat in a low chair next to Celene. I couldn't help but notice the black silk and silver gown Circe wore and how it clung to every curve. Her long black hair was drawn up in a net of silver, glittering with small sapphires. She must have borrowed the jewels. I knew she didn’t have any of her own.

Circe deserved sapphires...and diamonds. Diamonds to show off her long supple neck and graceful shoulders. I knew the diamonds would warm to the her increasing their colorful glint in the candlelight. Pearls, too. Pearls would come alive at the touch of her skin and set her eyes alight with a luster of the blue green sea.

What oaf from Ostwick would even know she needed diamonds, sapphires and pearls?

I remembered the night at the pond. Her skin was so warm under my touch. Her eyes glowed in the moonlight like a summer sky about to storm. She would need pearls and sapphires for her wedding and diamonds to celebrate the birth of her children. She deserved a man who would love her through every moment of her life. The early years and the pregnancies. Hold her hand through the pain of childbirth and dry her tears when she worried after their children. Never notice the first strands of silver in the ebony fall of hair. Although, marriage and life would change her from an innocent to woman and mother, the lovemaking must always be that of first time lovers.

It would be up to me to keep the passion fresh. I could do that. I could do that because my heart already knew those stages of her life and loved her through all of them.

What had my mother said once? That a girl should wear only pearls at her first ball?

“Altus, you are quiet this evening. Tell us of Tevinter.”

I set my forgotten tea carefully on the inlaid table and focused my glazed eyes on the Empress. “It seems the Inquisition brought out the best and the worst in Tevinter, Empress.”

She laughed, “That is what we hear, as well. Surely, by the way your Inquisitor watches you with such affection you must represent one of the best. Yes?”

“I’m not so sure of that, My Lady. I have found a home of sorts with the Inquisition and I believe in the battle we fight. If only to redeem my people’s role in these horrific events. Of course, it is now much more then that.”

“How prettily you, blush, Lady Trevelyan. I’m afraid all of us here at court lost the ability to blush long ago.”

A servant abruptly entered the room and spoke quietly to the Empress. A look of annoyance crossed her face, but she was too well bred to allow it to remain long.

“Forgive me. I am called away. Please enjoy the refreshments and stay here and rest as long as you wish. My staff will see you back to your room whenever you are ready.”

We stood and watched her leave the room. Then all but me followed Circe’s example of pouring fresh tea. “Inquisitor, if I may take my leave?”

Varric downed his wine in one gulp. “Ease off, Mage. She’s not the Empress.”

That damn Varric. “Perhaps we could all use a bit of practice and polish, eh Dwarf?” I left him laughing into his second glass of wine.

After retrieving something from my room, I went in search of the palace shops. There are always, shops. An amazing array of goods greeted me as I strolled from vendor to vendor. Once I located a likely shopkeeper I ended up haggling a bit more than I expected. Bloody Orlesians, don’t appreciate fine Tevinter craftsmanship.

Coin in hand, I headed over to the jewelry shops, their wares glinting in the candle light. I found what I wanted quickly. Lest I inadvertently drive up the price I took my time. My choice was made when I walked in the shop, but I took my time. When the man was busy with another customer, an obviously spoiled girl looking for her first set of jewels. I had no time for this. I offered him slightly less than the marked price, but when the girl began to pout he took my coin.

I took a chance, “The matching earrings, as well?”

The girl began to whimper to her father or perhaps that was a lover. One can never tell and it was better to error on the side of silence. The shopkeeper tossed the earrings in the silk bag and took the offered sum. He nodded his head toward the door, “Out with you, vint.”

I didn't care what he thought or what he just said. I made it to my room with no one stopping me. Inside, I found a servant brushing my dress uniform.

“Does the Altus wish to bath before the event, sir?”

Gods above, I think I love this place. We obviously needed more servants at Skyhold.

“I’ll eat first and rest. Afterwards I’ll bathe. Thank you, I’ll call for you then.”

The nap did me good by improving my mood. I spent the afternoon quietly with my nose in a book. Soon it was time to dress. I meant to take my time dressing, but the passing time only inflamed my nerves. Finally, I pulled on the red coat, blue sash and kid-skin gloves and went in search of the Inquisitor. The servant fused over my hair until I finally escaped him at the door.

No one stopped me from entering her sitting room. With my heart beating ridiculously fast, I found her sitting alone at her dressing table. When she saw me in the mirror she rose slowly to her feet. I stopped, stunned at the beauty in front of me.

She wore, not the expected Orlesian fashion, but a very simple and elegant ball gown cut in the Tevinter style. The form fitting bodice showed off her curves and the tight jacket trimmed in the same royal blue as the sashes on our uniforms set off her eyes. The skirt fell in billowing waves of black silk behind her, while the front, cut short to mid thigh, showed off her long legs. The black leather boots skimmed the graceful muscles earned from riding and fighting. The matching stockings and clung in all the right places. She'd forgone the usual Tevinter head dress for a simple hairstyle that fell down her back in waves. Maker’s Breath, she is a beauty.

We stared at each other for a long time. Had she dressed in a Tevinter style for me? I dared not ask. Finally, I pulled the bag from my pocket and walked toward her. Above the delicate fabric of her bodice I noticed her heart beating frantically. I knew how she felt for mine was the same.

“Lady Trevelyan, if I may be permitted?” I didn’t wait for her permission I walked up behind her and poured the contents of the bag into my hands. The earrings I kept, but the necklace I placed around her neck. The pearls lay demurely against her skin. The sapphire fell between her breasts and began to beat with a life of its own. Once I closed the clasp, I turned her around. What she saw in the mirror made her gasp and she took a step back against me.

“Dorian?”

“Do not speak, Lady. Enjoy the gift. I ask one thing.” I took her hand in mine and brought her knuckles to my lips.

“Anything,” she breathed as if she had no more to spare.

“I ask a dance. Just one dance with the beautiful woman who stands before me.”

* * *

 

One of the most romantic scenes in movie history. No one does this better than Yule Brenner and Deborah Kerr in the 1956 version of The King and I:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QgVPnWmUqd4


	14. Learning to Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those of you who reminded me to keep working on this story. I got motivated! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

**Circe**

The flickering candlelight cast garish shapes against the gold and white walls. The smell of unwashed bodies overlaid with perfume floated to where I stood at the top of the marble and gold staircase. I'd rather face a horde of demons than the sea of painted and masked faces below. I’d been to balls before, this crush of courtiers shouldn’t be new to me. But this the first time the attention was directed at me, instead of my father.

The masks and fancy manners did little to hid their malice and suspicion. I forced some air into my lungs and took a step. A hand on my elbow steadied me, and there was Dorian. He pulled my fingers into the bend of his arm. We spent our days riding and walking over the countryside, but just now I require assistance walking down a staircase. In spite of my attempt at bravado, I squeezed my fingers around Dorian’s arm when the Orlesians pressed closer as they announced us.

“The Inquisitor, Lady Circe Lorena Alycia Trevelyan of Ostwick and Lord Dorian Pavus, Altus Mage and heir to House Pavus.”

“Ignore them, my Lady. I am here.” Dorian whispered patting my hand where it curled around his arm.

His friendly smile warmed my heart. In the candlelight with his light eyes and black hair, he appeared more handsome than ever.

“Why do you stare, Circe?”

“You look very handsome tonight.”

“That is nothing new. I am but an adornment on your arm. Tonight, your radiances outshines the stars.”

“It’s the necklace, nothing more. Which I shall return to you at the end of the night.”

“It was a gift, Inquisitor.”

“That I cannot accept…”

“Of course, you can. I’ll hear no more about it. Come along, Circe. Your adoring fans await.”

The guarded look in his eyes didn’t match his smile and courtly manner. I stopped to ask, but he squeezed my fingers over his arm.

“I believe the metaphor you're looking for is hungry wolves, not adoring fans,” I whispered, and he laughed. Good. If he could laugh, he might relax. We descended.

The Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons intercepted us and bowed low over my hand. The insipid smile, the groveling all meant to put me off my guard. Well, that wouldn’t happen. As my father was fond of saying, now there’s a slimy fellow. Slimy, indeed. From his bad teeth and fetid breath to his body odor. He made a show of manners and charm, but when he took my hand to kiss it, I almost...almost recoiled. I took one step away from him and found myself backed against The Bull. One of his big hands on my lower back steadied me. When Gaspard finally looked up, Bull’s face glowering face motivated him to release my hand with a small gasp.

“The necklace is lovely, Inquisitor. How charming against the luster of your youthful skin. The sapphire pulls the eyes…”

“Watch it…”

“Yes, yes, of course, my Quinary friend. Quite, right. May I offer you and your party a moment of quiet? Yes? Please follow me.”

A glance at Dorian confirmed my suspicions. It wouldn’t do to keep the Empress waiting, but there is obviously something he wishes to tell us. We are here to investigate rumors of an assassination attempt on the Empress. Dorian stayed at my side while The Bull and the rest of our party fanned out around me.

The Duke led us to a small chamber off the main hall and nodded us inside. The sound of murmuring voices outside quieted when he shut the door. Servants handed us a fluted glass of something refreshing and bubbly. Another servant passed around a plate inlaid with gold and mother of pearl overflowing with delicate looking meat pasties and fruit.

“Inquisitor, the Empress awaits. I require but a moment of your time. As your very competent Spy Master no doubt told you, Briala is the elven handmaid and spymaster of Empress Celene.”

I felt it wiser not to speak. Whether it was my father’s small court or the Winter Palace, it was always good to remember you were never really alone. A nod of my head was all he required to keep talking.

“Well!” He downed a glass of amber liquid and reached for another.

Behind me, Dorian snorted. “Abuse of good wine.”

“Just so, My Lord. Would I receive the same courtesy in Tevinter I’ve shown you here?”

“Do go on, Duke.”

“As you wish.” The Duke bowed to Dorian and gathered himself to speak.

I wondered just how much of this was carefully rehearsed.

“As I’m sure you’ve noticed already under the light of the candles, the beautiful clothes and food lay a trap waiting for the right moment to unfold. I will tell you what I know, but you must use your celebrity to move about the guests and gather clues.”

“Duke, what have your own spymasters told you?”

“Nothing more than I’m about to relate to you.”

I set my empty glass down and listened to what this slimy fellow had to say.

~o0o~

 

Dorian and I stood in the shadows of the Guest Wing searching for clues. We found an something Dorian referred to as a cylinder seal in the Hall of Heroes. Shrouded in the shifting shadows filled with motes of dust Dorian had me laughing in spite of the seriousness of our mission. The glowering portraits of these so called heroes stared down at us.

“Look at this one, Circe. Such a large sword… That only means one thing. Yes?”

I felt the blush rising, but I couldn’t resist responding to him. “To compensate for his small feet? Only you would compare a sword to a…”

He’s at my side in an instant. “Say it. I dare you.”

“I don’t believe I will. I don’t know what you’re referring to at any rate.”

“That I can believe,” Dorian muttered behind me after I made my escape.

How is that each time we're alone the conversation turned to intimate relations? I tried to cover my discomfort by resorting to chatter. It’s not that I wouldn’t or couldn’t talk about such things. It’s very much because I cannot look into those light greens eyes, feel his breath upon my cheek with his hands touching me and say it. Aren’t those words for two people who are intimate? I’m afraid chatter will have to do.

“Such grandeur. My father’s court is quite humble compared to the Winter Palace.”

“And that my Inquisitor is what makes you such a charming woman and a great leader. Arrogance without merit bores quickly.”

“And you know nothing about such mundane things as vanity?”

“My dearest Inquisitor. If I am arrogant, it is nothing more than the natural display of my superior skills as a Mage…”

“…and a lover, no doubt.”

“Do not doubt that. More than that, I like to think I am a generous lover. This is where you belong. Among the scented candles and gold plate. Excellent food and wine, where the man who loved you dressed you in fine clothes and brought you happiness.”

Why is he doing this? He’s so handsome in the dim light with the candlelit flickering in his eyes. I moved across the room and changed the subject.

“Is Tevinter at all like the Winter Palace?”

“No. The gilt rubbed off long ago. We no longer bother to hide the intrigue and plotting under the guise of beautiful manners and good wine. I would take you there, Circe. Show you my country, the places I love and travel the countryside. I would like to see you in winter, wrapped in fur with a red sparkle in your cheeks. I could teach you to ice skate. You’ve never done that, yes?”

“Dorian, I believe you had too much to drink.”

“You wound me, Circe. Not a drop other than that cheap wine the Duke passed off on us.”

“I liked the taste.”

“Apparently, because you just inquired as to my abilities as a lover.”

“You’re mistaken. I didn’t say any such thing.” Here we go again.

“Yes, you did. Shall I tell you of our nights in Tevinter? The long nights of Fall and Winter where warmth and satisfaction are but a glass of warm spiced wine away? You, in the summertime, dressed in fine muslin so thin and soft your small clothes might show beneath. Enjoying a flavored ice in the garden. Your hair up to keep to cool your neck. I believe he would enjoy watching you put up your hair just so he could take it down again.”

“And does that man have a name, Dorian?” His unfocused eyes darkened, and he started as if I startled him.

“I’m sure I don’t know! Now, come along my dearest Inquisitor. We have work to do, and I’m sure they’re missing you in the ballroom. We mustn't cause talk.”

We found the Guest Gardens without raising suspicion. At first glance, the lush greenery and chiming sound of fountains seemed to draw us in. Once inside, the statues and the inlaid tiles turned the garden into a cold and lonely place. Dorian seemed to feel it, too. He took my arm and lead us down to the lower garden.

“I’ve always enjoyed fountains, but the effect here is more like a mausoleum than a garden.”

Dorian and I chose a random path watching for anything resembling a clue. With courtiers all around us, we stayed silent and walked arm in arm as if enjoying the garden.

“Would you enjoy fountains in your garden at Skyhold, Inquisitor?”

“I was just thinking the same thing, Lord Pavus.” I nodded and smiled graciously to keep up the pretense.

“Come, Inquisitor. The water chills the air. Let us head back to the guest quarters, yes?”

We passed several elaborately dressed guests on the stairs. As we came abreast of the knot of whispering courtiers, I heard one of them comment, “Ma parole…My word! Will you look at that? What satisfaction does the Inquisitor expect from the great pederast himself, Lord Pavus?”

Their knowing laughter enraged me. I felt mana simmer on my skin beneath this horrid itchy gown. My hands tingled…it was only a matter of deciding which spell to use. Dorian took my arm to hurry me up the marble stairs.  
They weren’t finished. One of the females giggled. Then a male voice chirped, “One hears the Inquisitor often dresses as a boy. Perhaps they enjoy a bit of…”

“Hush, Phillipe! It is common knowledge, that you and your latest lover—what’s his name? Bah! I cannot keep track—take your fun in the Trophy Room.”

What? I stopped and bent my head toward Dorian as if to gossip, but pitched my voice for the others to hear my words.

“Did you hear that, Dorian? The Trophy Room? You were correct about overcompensation. I suppose if you’re just a cub, it makes sense to stand next to the bear. Mais oui, mon Seigneur Pavus?”

Five masked faces turned to look up at me. Apparently, they couldn’t come up with a single word between them. Dorian’s mouth dropped open, and I couldn’t help myself the laughter came unbidden. With no mercy for my high heels, Dorian hustled me up the stairs and into one of the rooms.

The door slammed shut and Dorian followed the sound with his fist into the ornate wooden door. The sound cracked around the small room like a fireball. “I-I am sorry. Dorian, I would not allow them to say those things about you.”

“While I appreciate you attempt to defend me. You’ve really put your foot in it, Inquisitor.”

“I’m not worried about it. I’ll wager those leeches can take it as well as dish it out. I’m sick to death of all this intrigue.” A slip of parchment caught my eye. I held it to the candle and unrolled the thick paper.

 

_Celene,_

_We can discuss this like adults, can’t we? We both know the weapon at Briala’s disposal could not only turn the tide of our war but every war. The empire must control it: I do not believe you disagree. She is now a greater threat to Orlais than anything else. If you and I work together, we can wrestle control away from hr. Do not deceive yourself that she will be open to negotiation or diplomacy. You know here better than anyone—you know that’s impossible._

_Gaspard_

"This is exactly what we need," I said. Instead of sharing my excitement Dorian simply nodded rolled the parchment closed and slid it inside his shirt. 

“My dearest Inquisitor. I would have you know the truth.”

“Oh, Dorian. I know the truth. Come on, we must find more clues.”

“Do you even know what pederast means?”

“What does it matter? I know you prefer men…perhaps, young men…It’s not for me to judge you, is it? After all, what am I? Just a silly overeducated virgin out in the world for the first time and most definitely in over her head. But if you must tell me, then tell me. Get it out.”

Dorian drew me into the shadows. I thought I’d never seen him as sad as this moment. With the exception of his loyalty and unstinting courage, what he said next taught me more, about the handsome man in front of me than anything else he’d said. His voice so low, like warm brandy, embraced me. I welcomed it.

“Where I come from, anything between two men…it’s about pleasure. It’s accepted but taken no further…”

My heart ached for him. How lonely his life must be. “You’re wrong, Dorian. You’re not alone.” He kept talking as if he couldn't or wouldn't hear me.

“You learn not to hope for more. You’d be foolish to.”

“No, Dorian. There is always hope. I will not allow you to despair of it.”

He raised glittering eyes to mine and laid his palm against my cheek. The moment drew out while the undercurrent murmur of the guests, the sound of tinkling glasses and the guard's footsteps fell away. His arm circled my waist and pulled me close.

“As I am beginning to understand, my dearest Circe.”


	15. Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As I wrote this I suddenly remembered that Bryan Adams song, "Have you ever really loved a woman?" PERFECT! I looked for it on youtube and discovered the song is more than twenty years old! It's possible that many of you have never heard it. Please take a listen. It's romantic and wonderful and Bryan Adams just owns it.

 

* * *

 "To really love a woman  
To understand her - you gotta know her deep inside  
Hear every thought - see every dream  
N' give her wings - when she wants to fly  
Then when you find yourself lyin' helpless in her arms  
Ya know ya really love a woman"

* * *

 

**Dorian**

I'm caught up in her innocent promise. I believed her when she vowed that I'm not alone. I believed her, and it swelled my heart to breaking because I know when it came down to it this promise will break our hearts. Any number of terrible deaths hovered on the edge of our world where the demons wait for us to make a mistake. Their stench wrinkled the nostrils and raised the hackles. Although we worked hard toward a common cause, we are strangers to each other. Well, let's not be coy. The Bull is in it for the gold. I am a jaded man who's seen too much of the world and no longers believed in the good of his fellow man.

The Inquisitor is young, but learned and takes the counsel of those around her with wisdom and grace. Natural beauty and courage give her a charismatic personality that drew us together. After each battle, evenings spent talking over mugs of decent ale or around a campfire, in yet another Andraste-forsaken land, our small band of warriors grew ever closer. It's the woman who stared up at me so earnestly who is our center and our guiding star.

How can I make her understand that I've given her all I have? There is nothing more in my heart for her. Yet, here she stands, gazing up at me with the self-assurance that any argument I might present is invalid. She knows it, too. Experience as the Inquisitor taught her to believe in her instincts and abilities. The past months proved to her that she is more than just a cloistered intellectual. Shall I take her home to Tevinter, marry her and shall I give her children?

_And do you even understand what that means, you ram-headed idiot?_

Honestly, I don't know. Well, of course, I know. Birds, bees and something about flowers…and maybe butterflies?

I've never actually… with a woman… you get the idea. Yes? I think I remember my mother hugging me once, never to be repeated, the day I left for day school. My father wanted me tutored at home. Where he could control every bloody bit of information, that was put into my head. I wanted to go to a real school and for once, Mother took my side. That is where I made the delightful discovery that I wasn't the only one with a desire for a round muscular bottom and the strength of another man pinning me to the mattress… Apologies, I digress.

Back to the subject of women. Certainly, they are softer, weaker and more tender in their feelings. What about taste? The taste! Speaking specifically from the scientific point of view, do women even taste like men?. Salty sweat over hard muscles and the pungent scent of desire. A foraging mouth. The warm splash of salt and spice over my tongue.

_School your thoughts, Dorian. She will expect an answer._

I imagined women tasted rather like the perfume they insist on drowning themselves in. Honestly, I can't imagine how anyone who could afford a wife who dumped a bottle of perfume over her head every morning. Circe isn't like that. She smells like herself. Like moonlight at the stroke of midnight, of fresh air and sunshine. When we are out in the wilds, I watch her comb out her long hair each evening by the fire. My hands itch to touch her. I want to wrap the glossy strands around my fingers. Place my nose in that secret spot just under her ear and trace the shape of neck and shoulder with my lips. How does a woman taste? She tasted like Circe, of course.

"Dorian? What are you doing?"

My academic musings—because I assure you, that's all it is—were interrupted by a very confused looking Inquisitor. I opened my eyes to find my fingers, were indeed, tangled in her hair. While my nose had somehow landed beneath the delicate shell of her right ear. Exactly two seconds after I realized what I'd done, I noticed the Inquisitor's breath had quickened into warm puffs against my check. Her tone of voice had not been one of reprimand but soft and breathless. I couldn't look at her, while I continued to pull the pins from her elaborate coiffure. She struggled once, then gave a long sigh and relaxed against me. Circe tilted her head back to allow her hair to fall free. When I gave into my fantasy of lacing my fingers into the tangle of dark curls, her body went soft and languid.

Is she aroused? If she is, then I certainly am. I bloody well know what that felt like. And what, between the Fire and Blight, am I supposed to do about that? What I might normally do certainly doesn't apply here. Because? Well, because one doesn't bend the Inquisitor over the back of a settee.

In a moment of clarity, that came and went quickly, I canted my hips away from her. Under normal circumstances, I bumped my hips against the object of my pursuit to let them know what awaited them in return for yielding to my charms. She leaned toward me with her mouth open slightly as if to offer me a taste of what lay inside. I have but to turn my head. Then I nearly cried out and the unexpected contact, when my little virgin gripped me by the blue sash that lay across my chest and bumped her hips against mine. Perhaps she is not as innocent as I fancied. And that possibility sent my imaginings all over the place. More likely, as she often does, she is following her instincts. And Maker's breath, she is so often correct. I want her, and I want this time with her. If I am not the man to give her first kiss then who is?

It's all wrapped up in months of fighting, planning our next move, watching her comb out the ebony hair that is often the exact color of the night sky. The firelight reflected in her eyes as she listened politely to yet another story. Her daring and self-confidence that what the Inquisition is doing is the best solution. The way she moved among the Inquisition people as if she were born to rule over a court of noblemen.

I am in love with a woman named Circe. And what do I know of love? My skills as a Mage were above reproach. I'm capable, whether the table is made of stained splintered oak or elegantly ornamented wood, of drinking anyone under that table. My paramours never wanted for satisfaction—I am known for my fortitude in the bedroom. It is they who fall to the pillows first, sated and exhausted. While I… The truth? The pride I felt at such moments faded quickly and I am often left wanting. What is it that I want? What do I wish for, at that moment when the nameless man began to snore? What itch needs scratching? (A rather coarse saying. Yes?) What is that ache in my heart that I've learned to ignore?

A small taste. Something to seal the promise she made. By way of letting her know I understand, I shall kiss her. Shocked at the wanderings of my mind, I pulled back. Circe's eyes fluttered open. Braced in my arms, she allowed her head to fall back. She is mine for the taking, and I know within the hidden hollows of my heart, that she won't fight me. She wants me, and I want her. What else matters? I framed her head with my hands and lifted her toward me. The taste of her already teasing my lips. Then at the moment before I press my mouth to hers, she wrapped her fingers around one of mine. Her eyes changed and filled with the shine of innocence and joy. I felt that joy, too. In her eyes, with her arms around my waist and our breath lingered in the air between us, I see the image of a child with the same blue eyes staring up at me.

 _"_ Festisbei umo _canavarum_ …you will be the death of me. My Circe, my _Somnoborium_ … my vessel of dreams." The words, I love you formed on my lips as I bent to kiss her.

"Well, throw me in a fire and call me Andraste!"

The sound of Bull's laughter broke me away from Circe so quickly I sent her reeling into the wall. There go all my gentlemanly intentions. But she is so beautiful, and I must admit desirable with her hair scattered over her gown, her breath in quick gasps pushing the upper curves of her breasts over the top of her dress. Her hands clenched the plastered wall behind her.

"Inquisitor! A word?"

The Quinary. He knows no limits. Yes? "She's busy. Move along, unless you have something worthwhile to report."

"Dorian, if you spent more time serving the Inquisitor instead of lusting after her you would notice the court grows restive with her absence, and the Empress is about to speak."

"Thank you, Bull," she said in a voice and tone calmer than anything I could muster. "We located several clues in these rooms. Will you take them please, and show them to Cullen and Lilianna?"

Bull held out his arm for her, "Of course. May I escort you to the ballroom, Boss?"

"Yes, perhaps that would be best." Circe smoothed her clothes and without a smile, a touch, or a word, she left me standing in the shadows.

"Circe…wait."

Breathing hard, I listened while the sound of her booted heels on the marble floor echoed then quieted. Furious at my behavior. Confused and dizzy with desire, I fisted my hand and punched a hole in the plaster where the Inquisitor had stood.

* * *

 

"Have You Ever Really Loved A Woman"

Lyrics, Bryan Adams

youtube dot com / watch?v=ZBwWmNlyS9k

To really love a woman  
To understand her - you gotta know her deep inside  
Hear every thought - see every dream  
N' give her wings - when she wants to fly  
Then when you find yourself lyin' helpless in her arms  
Ya know ya really love a woman

When you love a woman you tell her  
that she's really wanted  
When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one  
Cuz she needs somebody to tell her  
that it's gonna last forever  
So tell me have you ever really  
\- really really ever loved a woman?

To really love a woman  
Let her hold you -  
til ya know how she needs to be touched  
You've gotta breathe her - really taste her  
Til you can feel her in your blood  
N' when you can see your unborn children in her eyes  
Ya know ya really love a woman

When you love a woman  
you tell her that she's really wanted  
When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one  
Cuz she needs somebody to tell her  
that you'll always be together  
So tell me have you ever really -  
really really ever loved a woman?

You got to give her some faith - hold her tight  
A little tenderness - gotta treat her right  
She will be there for you, takin' good care of you  
Ya really gotta love your woman...


	16. Nobody's Watching

 

* * *

"You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching,  
Love like you'll never be hurt,  
Sing like there's nobody listening,  
And live like it's heaven on earth."  
― William W. Purkey

* * *

 

**Circe**

Bull hustled me along the corridor until I finally shook him off. I knew he meant well, but… "Bull. That's enough. I'm perfectly capable of walking on my own."

"And right into the net of that Mage," he muttered.

"His net? You're kidding."

Bull took my arm with enough strength to spin me around. What is it about men that just because we're generally smaller, it's okay to handle us in this manner?

No, he wasn't kidding. Not with his head lowered like the bull in my father's herd about to charge. The memory made me smile. Bull probably wasn't in the mood for bovine analogies, so I covered it quickly.

"We have to get back to the ballroom and hand this information over to Lilianna. No more lectures about Dorian." I gave my skirt an authoritative flounce, spun on my heel and nearly dumped myself on the polished floors. So much for grand exits. Two steps further and I ran headlong into Cullen and Lilianna.

"He's right, Inquisitor." Cullen must have followed our conversation because he picked up on Bull's comment. Never underestimate those strong silent types. He lowered his voice, speaking directly to me piercing me with those golden eyes of his. A blush crept up my neck.

I am drained from the stress of living under the noses of these people. They mean well. We do good work together, but tonight they go too far. Lillianna glared at me from her elegant hood while Cullen stared at my necklace.

I'll start with Cullen. "Commander Cullen, Dorian and I have much in common. Over time, we found friendship. I cherish it."

"The necklace you wear is not from a friend, Inquisitor." Lilliana purred in the bitchiest tone I'd ever heard from her.

Behind me, the Bull stamped his foot, "You've got the right of it, spymaster."

_Get a hold of yourself, Circe_

"Save it for the War Table and get back to work," I snapped with all the high tones of the Duke. That felt good. All three of them back up pace nodded and turned among themselves with their heads together. Good.

However, walking unescorted through the Winter Palace wasn't the smartest thing to do either. As if I'd conjured him, and I suppose I did, Cole appeared. Dressed elegantly in court garb, with his hair combed—for once—he stepped forward and offered me his arm.

I put all thoughts of what happened between Dorian and I and warnings of the others. Instead, I focused on the marble steps of the grand staircase and the glittering court at our feet. Masked faces and a smattering of applause at our appearance. Across the ballroom, the Empress raised her glass and nodded her head in my direction. Somehow, a glass appeared in my hand so that I could return the toast.

The great clock in the hallway struck midnight.

"I believe you'll find the answers to the current dilemma on the balcony, Inquisitor." Cole walked me to the edge of the open windows released my hand and gave me a little push. Then he disappeared into the night air.

The answer wasn't clues, or Venatori, the Duke or even the Empress. Standing in the shadows, back straight, and shoulders square. Handsome and elegant in his dress uniform stood Cullen Rutherford.

This was enough unlike him that I decided to wait for him to speak. The mystery deepened when he closed the doors and checked to make sure we were actually alone on the balcony. With his eyes averted, he offered me a glass of wine. I tried to catch his eye, he wouldn't look at me. Odd, I wouldn't have said Cullen was shy. Reserved, yes. But not shy. Yet there he stood, eyes everywhere but on my face.

"Thank you, Commander." I took a sip. Still no words from him, but now he's watching me silently.

I ventured a neutral, "Is there something you wish to discuss?"

_Is he blushing?_

"Apologies, Inquisitor. The others decided I should be the one to talk to you about Dorian."

This again. To calm my rising temper, I took a second sip of wine and stepped to the railing. The marble felt cold under my fingers, seeping through my silk gloves.

A shadow fell across me, in the shape of my handsome golden-eyed Commander. Deep in thought, I didn't realize how close he'd moved. When I turned, it was into his body. He caught me, rescued the glass from my hand, and set it on the ledge.

The intensity of his stare worried and confounded me.

"Cullen. Please speak."

He seemed to come to himself, and I watched him take a deep breath. "Why did you choose the mage?"

"Choose the mage?" I could pretend I didn't understand. Might as well get this over with. "Dorian Pavus is a valuable member of our team. Or, is it that you have a particular issue with him?" He's standing close to me know I can hear the staccato rhythm of his breath on my cheek. Where is my calm and reserved Commander? When I felt his fingers touch my hair I flinched.

"Commander Cullen, report."

That seemed to break the spell, and his hand dropped to his side.

Cullen cleared his throat. "Inquisitor, we are concerned your attachment to the Tevinter mage will jeopardize the mission and possibly pervert your political—"

"Pervert? My political…what? Cullen. I gave you an order."

"I cannot bear to see his hands on you."

My hands gripped the railing. I'm standing on a balcony. The evening air is fresh and scented. The flowering plants around us curtsey in the night breeze releasing their scent. Just now, as his words fell between us, I had no air to breath. The Inquisitor, the composed leader of men and women, became the nineteen-year-old girl who escaped from home to join the Enclave and see the world.

With my head down, I watched Cullen remove the glove from his right hand. It began to move toward me. Warm, calloused fingers touched my throat. His index finger landed on the pulse point, and his fingers wound in the necklace. Cullen forced me to tilt my head to look at him.

"You feel it, too. I know you do."

And this is when I realize the full extent of my naiveté. An experienced woman would know how to handle the hunger I see in Cullen's amber eyes, understand the hard line of his jaw and what to do about the fingers fisted against my throat, so the stones cut into my skin. This also explained the lingering looks. The fact that he sought me out after every mission. Almost always found a question for me to answer, which caused me to linger after everyone left the War Table. He personally saw to my weapons. He refused to touch my staff, though. I can hardly blame his reticence. The problem? This isn't the time. In spite of my pounding heart. It beat in time with his as our breath mingled in the humid air.

As a mage, most people take a careful step around me. Even my family kept me at arm's length. What do they think I'm going to do, turn them randomly into farm animals? The Inquisition, for all the chaos and rivalries, felt more like home to me than anywhere else I'd been. Because here were people as idiosyncratic as me.

What would my parents say at the antics of this wild bunch? Cullen the steadfast soldier, no longer a young man, yet still in his prime. Each night he goes to his bed alone only to wake up to another sixteen hour day. Cassandra and Leliana so wrapped up in the roles they play, they see no other path. Bull and his Chargers. They will keep fighting until one day they will be no more. And Dorian. Dorian the Altus Mage from Tevinter, where he knows neither harmony or household.

What is it that Cullen believes I feel? The simmering heat pooling low in my belly from the arousal Dorian kindled in me just an hour ago or the womanly need to smooth the troubled brow of the lonely warrior before me. What was it like to be kissed? To be wrapped in strong arms and held so close that our bodies cleave. My breasts tightened, and my very skin betrayed me with the need to be touched, consumed.

I squeezed my eyes shut and looked for something to focus on. The ache in my breasts, the terrible need to feel his hands on them. Would he like what he found there? I wanted him to find out, expose myself to him and sate the hunger. But this isn't the wisdom of Bull's touch or Dorian's flirtation. Dorian. The man I want but could never have. This wasn't forbidden or hopeless. Cullen brought my hand to his lips and kissed the backs of my fingers.

"You know what it is like to stand apart. To hold yourself to an impossible standard so that others may find the courage they need." His arm snaked around my waist and tugged me close. "I would never hurt you, Circe or take more than you wished to give."

My body betrayed me again, by arching up into his. I found what I knew was there when my hips touched his. His arm tightened around me, and he groaned against my fingers. A sound he silenced quickly by closing his eyes.

Cullen turned me so that my back is pinned against the wall. His head came up, and his eyes flashed. "You seek it, Inquisitor. It is yours for the taking. He pressed his hips against me, and I felt the full force of his passion. "I talk like a green boy. I apol…"

"Cullen," I said into his collar, not daring to look at him. "I'm…I'm the child. I wish I weren't so I would know what to do."

I thought he might back down instead he pushed me against the wall and plunged his fingers into my hair. Cullen knows, doesn't he? He knows how to ease this grinding ache, this need to invite Cullen into the safe haven of my body. He's said nothing of love. What doesn't that matter? Love has no place in a world we live in.

Cullen's thumb rubbed over the pointed tip of my breast.

"You're a woman. You already know everything," he murmured urgently against my hair. "I didn't mean to go this far tonight. But you're so beautiful and when I saw the necklace."

No, let's not talk about Dorian. Not now. I moved my head to stop him from saying the mage's name. If I kiss him, he won't say it. Right? His panting breath heated my lips, everything in me arched toward him. This can't be wrong. This experience will give me a better perspective about Dorian. My hands twist into the blue sash. Scrabbling over the hard planes of his chest I reach to kiss the mouth foraging across my cheek.

This is real and not some empty and hopeless girlish fantasy. When I opened my eyes, a shadow rose over us. Cullen's eyes widened. He must see the reflection of something in my eyes. Something, like a sudden draft of wind, lifted the fabric of the dress over my shoulder A sharp pain and the thud of something hitting the wall. Cullen pulled a short sword from his the sash at his waist and pulled away enough for me to ready my hands. In the blink of an eye, we acknowledged what came next.

The mana flowed smoothly into my overheated body and boiled to life in my veins. A pulse began to beat between my legs. The magic flew into my hands as a flock of hungry birds. Cullen whirled slashing his blade. A cry and the sound of something falling against the stone. I let fly a gout of flame that set the intruders back to the garden below.

Something warm washed over the back of my hand.

"Venatori," he exclaimed. "Ready yourself."


	17. Love's Labor Lost

 

* * *

"But love, first learned in a lady's eyes…"

* * *

 

**Dorian**

I think I broke the doors. I don't remember turning the knob, so I must have used a bit of magic. That's what magic is for. That's what Alexius always said. The door shattered against the white stone. Apologies, Empress. Next time, perhaps you'll spend more coin on better glass.

I had to get to Circe. I had to explain. And if she would have none of that? Then at least I could apologize. If she couldn't forgive me? Then my brutish behavior justified whatever scorn she threw my way. I tried to ignore the consequences of that possibility and charged through the opening.

The flash of steel and the round eyes of the Inquisitor met me as the doors burst open. Time stopped while I took in the disheveled Inquisitor who was at that moment leaping off the balcony and setting off at a run in those high-heeled boots. Impressive. Her mana diffused the air around her like a shield or the gossamer wings of an angel. Without stopping, or checking for backup Circe shoved her hair off her face, spun like a dancer and cast a fire spell.

_She is magnificent._

But, what is Commander Cullen doing out here? I tried to make sense of the scene in front of me. Then our great papa bear Cullen rounded on me. Odd how we are the same height, yet he always seemed to stare down at me. Just as he is right now as if he wasn't sure if he should point the blade at the soldiers or me. We have no time for silly games, and I intended to say so when to my right, I hear the sound of men clambering up the arbor and the marble stairs.

"What's it going to be, Commander? Them or me?"

"Venatori, mage," he hissed as if I were the mouse and he the snake.

Fuck this. It's not my fault a few… a lot… many, of my countrymen, are zealots to the cause-of-the-week. Is it? Once filled with the scent of flowers and lilac perfume, the night air erupted into a maelstrom of magic energy. Disagreements and misunderstandings forgotten for the moment, we joined ranks at the top of the stairs. Shoulder to shoulder we faced down the Venatori. Mages all, but they were no match for the combined power of Circe and myself. To my right, Cullen shouted a few orders, drew his sword and waded into the opening left by the Inquisitor's fire spell.

Step by step down the white marble staircase we lay the zealots out. A few ran screaming for cover, but my Circe caught them quickly, ending their flight and sending them rolling across the grass. My countrymen lay writhing and screaming as the magical fire melted the flesh off their bones. No healer in this world could save them. Cullen jogged from one to another quickly ending their suffering. There was no time for me to assimilate what I had just seen.

The sound of running turned us from the stinking mess. More Venatori are bearing down on us. We are here to do a job and the Inquisitor promised to assist the Empress. I swallowed the bile in my throat. Spit? No. Properly raised to become whatever my parents chose to mold me, I do not spit. Without a second thought, I put my staff to use in the aid of the Inquisitor.

By this time the others had joined us and no longer outnumbered. The Bull waded in swinging. Cullen directed Circe and I with a few hand signals. She to the left and me to the right, we flanked the remaining Venatori, bottle-necking them against the shrubbery and trellis. The last ten or so dropped to their knees begging.

"Lord Pavus! Save us from the Inquisition! Save us!"

They disgusted me with their frightened pleading. I readied a spell that would silence them for eternity. Distracting me with her sudden movement, Circe appeared at my side. Chest heaving with exertion and her luxurious hair tumbled about her shoulders, she stepped in front of me. Before I could protest, she faced them and with a quick slash of her hands ended their pleading.

She'd done that for me. To spare me. I swallowed hard and turned away. Why am I always startled by kindness? In my defense, I'm not sure there's a word for kindness or compassion in the Tevinter language. No surprise there. A simple thank you died on my lips when Cullen shouted at us.

"The field is clear, Inquisitor."

I had to say something. The moment would pass, and I felt the need to thank her. So there in the stinking shadows of the Empress's garden, I placed my hand on her arm.

"Circe. A moment?"

"Not now, Dorian," she replied without meeting my eyes. I must get back inside and explain this mess...somehow."

"Wait," I called to her like a love-sick boy. She left me standing there in a miasma of death and magic.

While I straightened my uniform, I realized I was indeed love-sick. Not like a boy, but a man who should know better than lose his heart to someone he could never have. I'd made quite the show of myself earlier, hadn't I? A very poor showing. Not the distracting emotional outburst she needed tonight or ever, for that matter. Yet, I wasn't the only one, was I? No. I turned back to the balcony and remembered Cullen's proprietary hands on her, one gripping her shoulder and the other carded into her hair. The way his body curved toward hers. It was he who pulled down her hair. A shiver of ice made its way down my spine.

Of all the responsibilities and burdens placed on her by the Inquisition, now she had two men vying for her attention. That, she didn't need and I was capable of making the distinction...and the choice. Cullen would be good for her and Maker knows he's the better man. I pointed myself at the bar to drown the truth of my decision and sooth my aching heart.

Two hours later, I leaned against the railing of a balcony, allowing the marble stone to hold me up. The view of the valley below a magnificent tableau of muted greens and glittering water. I didn't see it. My wine soaked brain could only think of one thing and that thing was Circe. And now I was drunk and still thinking of her. Still plagued by a need for her that called for fulfillment, yet I had no notion of how to love a woman. A woman? I tilted the bottle of expensive brandy to empty the contents into my mouth...not just any woman. The alcohol burned its way inside my gut before I remembered just how long it had been since I'd taken a drink. After I managed to set the empty bottle down without breaking it and I let the balcony take my weight. Dawn sent the first rays of light over the distant mountains when voices drifted to me from below.

"Inquisitor? Everyone's been looking for you."

That was Cullen's voice. Yes? I leaned over the edge to see Circe turn toward the Commander. She was exhausted. I didn't need to be sober to see the rounding of her shoulders or the tired smile. The final piece of my Circe puzzle fell into place when Cullen gallantly offered her his hand. The end of any indecision about my feelings toward her ended abruptly, as did my drunken state when she went into his arms. How well they fit together spinning through the dawn's multicolored light. My Circe let her head rest against his shoulder forcing me to notice how perfectly her cheek fit into the hollow of his shoulder. How well they moved together so perfectly. They made a handsome pair, like the morning sun contrasted with a starless night.

Sober and heartbroken, the pain exceeding any lingering soreness from last night, I headed inside to pack.

* * *

 

"But love, first learned in a lady's eyes,  
Lives not alone immured in the brain,  
But, with the motion of all elements,  
Courses as swift as thought in every power,  
And gives to every power a double power,  
Above their functions and their offices.  
It adds a precious seeing to the eye;  
A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind;  
A lover's ears will hear the lowest sound,  
When the suspicious head of theft is stopped:  
Love's feeling is more soft and sensible  
Than are the tender horns of cockled snails:  
Love's tongue proves dainty Baccus gross in taste.  
For valour, is not love a Hercules,  
Still climbing trees in the Hesperides?  
Subtle as Sphinx; as sweet and musical  
As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair;  
And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods  
Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.  
Never durst poet touch a pen to write  
Until his ink were tempered with Love's sighs."  
\- William Shakespeare, Love's Labour's Lost


	18. Bid Me Leap

 

* * *

JULIET  
"O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,  
From off the battlements of yonder tower,  
Or walk in thievish ways, or bid me lurk  
Where serpents are. Chain me with roaring bears;  
Or shut me nightly in a charnel house,  
O'ercovered quite with dead men's rattling bones,  
With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls.  
Or bid me go into a new-made grave  
And hide me with a dead man in his shroud  
(Things that, to hear them told, have made me  
tremble),  
And I will do it without fear or doubt,  
To live an unstained wife to my sweet love."  
Shakespeare, Romeo _and Juliet_

* * *

 

**Circe**

We were a silent group around the campfire on our final night before heading into the foothills and home to Skyhold. With a little luck, the weather would hold, and we could make good time. If I were any judge of the round shoulders, pinched lips, and furrowed brows around me we are tired. And it's no wonder. After all, we saved an Empress, a kingdom, a political scandal, and set the courtiers of the Winter Palace gossiping over our dress and behavior.

Not that I care. Well, of course, I care. I'll leave the gossip to those who are skilled at its intricacies. I'll turn my back on girlish fantasies and handsome romantic heroes and focus on the Inquisition. There was one personal item I couldn't ignore, and that was the letter I received from Dorian's father.

By midday, we reached the bridge into Skyhold. I was so happy to be home I almost wept with relief. The grooms gathered the horses and took the wagon way for unpacking. Everyone headed away, but I managed to catch Dorian before he disappeared.

"Dorian? After you settle in, please meet me for breakfast. There's something I must discuss with you."

"As you wish, Inquisitor." Then he made a polite, courtly bow and left me standing in the afternoon sun. The others nodded my way and headed off into the castle.

Grateful to be home, I said my good nights and headed to my rooms for a bath, my own bed, and sleep. With all that happened at the Winter Palace buzzing around my head like angry bees, I woke refreshed and rested. I rose before my maids could start fussing and dressed in my customary pants, boots, and jacket to join Dorian in the library. In what kind of mood might I find him? I'm afraid the contents of this letter will worsen his mood no matter how light or dark. Yet, I cannot keep it from him. But why did his father send it to me? There was only one way to find out. I reined in my heart and reminded myself that I'd had a restful sleep and this morning I could handle whatever Dorian threw my way.

I spied Dorian pouring tea in two cups when I reached the library. The hot biscuits and jam smelled inviting. My companion? Handsome as ever resplendent in simple robes of crimson and black leather. I looked down at the scuffed toes of my worn boots.

"Dorian, good morning. You look well. I'm afraid I'm rather a mud hen compared to you."

"Nonsense. Sit and drink your tea before it gets cold. I know you prefer it hot."

After a silent meal with me shamelessly in indulging in three biscuits lavishly smothered in strawberry jam, I waited for the usual curiosity of the residents to quiet before sharing my news with Dorian.

"Dorian? I have a letter for you."

But Dorian was unreadable this morning. He used the action of pouring more tea to cover his expression. Then he did something that shook me to my toes. He wet his thumb and reached across the table to smooth a bit of jam from my lip. Dorian pretended not to notice my gasp of surprise and I tried hard not to react further to watching him clean his thumb with a sensuous tug of his lips. Was he teasing me?

"Well, what is it? A love letter? A naughty letter? A marriage proposal? I thought I noticed a few of those old dowagers at the Winter Palace sizing me up."

It took only a glance to shoo away a few of the nosier members of the court. I pulled the heavy parchment from the pocket inside my jacket. When we were alone, I set it into his waiting hand.

"Would you prefer to read it in private, Dorian?" That earned me a look. "I don't know what's in it. Not even Liliana dared open it."

What if his mother passed away? The thick red wax of the Pavus crest is visible on the seal, but a scribe could have written the missive. If his father was ill, as the heir Dorian would need to go home to Tevinter and I would have to let him go.

"I'll leave you to your letter..." I rose to leave, but he took my hand and gently pulled me down again.

"Stay, Circe. Have another biscuit. More tea?"

Eyes everywhere but on the parchment in his hand, I waited silently with my hand in his. Whatever it is, my dearest love, you shall not face it alone. I tried for something neutral.

"You have the Inquisition's support..."

"It's my Father."

Excellent, I thought. Perhaps a simple greeting? "Your father inquirers after your welfare then?"

Dorian jumped from his chair upsetting the tea and the crows. With my hand over my tea to ward enough the inevitable feathers, I watched him pace for a moment before I rose slowly and placed my hand on his arm. He shook it off and began to pace.

"What my father knows about me couldn't fill a thimble," he spat and continued pacing. The remaining crows flew off, cawing in alarm through the roof.

"Does he wish to see you?" I ventured.

"Oh, no. Traveling about the countryside? How base. Magister Pavus sent a family retainer to the inn Redcliffe. Didn't some Redcliffe bumpkin rename it the Grey Warden's Rest? Fitting." Dorian snorted in disgust and tossed the letter on a nearby table. I watched it float to the stone floor.

"Will you go?"

"Alone? Are you mad?"

He wants me to travel with him. While I waited for him to decide I kept my delight that he needed me to myself.

"Let's go meet this retainer. If it's a ruse you and I will melt the place down with a few well-placed spells. Up for that, Inquisitor? If we leave this morning, we can be there by nightfall."

"I'll tell the groom to have the horses ready and food enough for the trip." I wouldn't need to pack much, and I was already dressed for riding. Dorian pulled me close. The rich fabric of his robe felt soft beneath my cheek. He smelled of leather, strong tea, and strawberries.

"Thank you, Inquisitor. My dearest, Circe. What would I do without you?" He murmured against my hair. He let go of me so quickly I swayed on my feet, but I managed to catch the edge of the table.

"I'll meet you in the yard, Dorian."

Rested and well-fed our horses waited for us, impatiently fiddling with the bit and generally giving their groom a workout. A slice of an apple a few calming words settled my horse. While Dorian waited for the groom to bring his horse under control I noticed his growing frustration. He was ready to be off. Another slice of apple quieted his temperamental gelding. He grabbed the reins and mounted so quickly I thought he used a levitation spell.

"You have a way with animals and Tevinter mages, alike Inquisitor."

I set my spurs and chased Dorian away from Skyhold to the valley below.

~o0o~

Dorian and I entered the inn shoulder to shoulder, expecting...Well, I'm not sure what we expected but definitely not an empty room. We stopped in our tracks at the entrance to the strangely empty. At this time of day, an inn was normally a noisy room of workers drinking, eating, enjoying cards or dice before heading home.

I heard Dorian whisper, "Uh, oh."

That's when I noticed a man standing silently in the shadows. His resemblance to Dorian was immediate and startling. This was Magister Pavus. I wondered if he'd once been as handsome as his son. Years of political intrigue and life in Tevinter creased his features into lines of exhaustion. How much of that had to do with his son, I wondered? Mana prickled my skin setting the hair on the back of my neck to rise. What manner of man was this? My hands reached for my staff. Did I imagine Dorian needed protecting from his own father? I would soon find out.

Magister Pavus began to speak, not to his son, but to me. "My apologies, Inquisitor. I did not intend to involve you in private family concerns."

I nodded politely, which was all the greeting I could manage. Call me ill mannered if you must, but this man emanated an evilness, not unlike Alexius. I would protect Dorian.

"Dorian asked me to accompany him, Magister."

"Make no mistake, Father. Whatever you have to say can be said in front of Circe."

His father set his jaw and clasped his hands at his waist.

"Speechless, Father? What is that you don't want to be revealed? Wait, is it the fact that a father intended to use blood magic on his only son to cure him of the sickness of his preference for men? No. Wouldn't want that to get out."

Blood magic! My stomach bottomed out and my throat clenched. I couldn't have spoken if I wanted to. I clasped my fingers together to keep them from trembling to keep from showing weakness to this predator. My heart went out to Dorian. Then I heard myself talking before I put the words together in my head.

"You'll have to explain that, Magister."

Dorian interrupted before Pavus could answer. "The company of men. As in sex. Yes?"

"I understand, Dorian. But..."

"I refused to put on a show, my dearest Inquisitor. Wear the Pavus robes, endure lavish displays of wealth and marry the girl. Selfish of me not to want to spend my life screaming on the inside."

"She was not just a girl, Dorian. She was a well educated and beautiful young woman from a well-connected house." Magister Pavus ground out between clenched teeth. His words held the tone of warning from a bear about to strike. That Dorian could become this...this... bile rose in my throat choking me.

A gentle hand on my back soothed me. I managed a weak, "Talk to him, Dorian. You'll never forgive yourself if you don't."

"Only because you ask it, Circe." Dorian opened the door for me and said quietly, "Wait for me?"

As if I could do anything else. Behind me, the wooden door slammed, and I overheard Dorian, "Tell me why you're here."

My worry for Dorian took my feet from one end of Redcliffe village to the other. Is it a woman's heart, which creates such a need to protect Dorian? Or, is the love of a woman for a man? Simple consideration for a friend or a mother's protectiveness? My feelings for Dorian held an element of all that, and I acknowledged it while I paced. I also knew with certainty that I could be all those things to Dorian. I loved him. If I stood still and quiet, I might feel the heaviness of a baby in my womb and its father's heart beating in time with mine.

When I opened my eyes, it was to see Dorian heading toward me with our horses in tow. Ear's down, tails swinging the horses plodded along after Dorian scuffing the dirt with each step.

"Are you alright?" I asked him taking my horses reins from his cold fingers.

"No, my dearest Inquisitor. I'm most certainly not alright. Let's go home."

Two days later I finally found him leaning against a window in some obscure room in Skyhold. He didn't acknowledge my presence, then said something to the window.

_Oh, Dorian._

"Back at the Winter Palace. That last night. Why Cullen? You danced with him and allowed him such intimacies that I do not want to imagine."

Accustomed to Dorian's quicksilver humor and changes of mood, I waited without reaction. At least, no reaction he could see. Inside my insides churned. How dare he question me? Dorian pushed himself away from the mullioned window and rounded on me.

"So romantic. Yes? Kisses in the moonlight. Dancing until Dawn. Did you allow him to relieve you of your virginity, as well?"

Anger rose, and I raised my hand to strike him. Why, oh why do our conversations always end in a fight? He caught my fist and yanked me toward him so quickly that I fell against him. His fingers bit into my jaw.

"I'm quite worried about you, little Circe. You keep picking the wrong man."

"And you know the identity of the right man, Dorian Pavus, the Altus mage from Tevinter who has eyes only for men and immediate pleasure?" I twisted away from him. Such a spoiled, petulant child! "I only meant to check on you and return the necklace."

He could only sneer at me and wouldn't accept the necklace. I tossed it on the table. I'd worn that necklace with pride and now it was ruined. I had better things to do, like plan for our next mission. Dorian stopped me at the door.

"Circe? If I did know. If I could name that man, I wonder if you would believe me or even care?"

Maker's heart, he appeared so worn out. But I could be hurtful too. I'd come here to discuss the use of Blood magic and let him vent his grief, not chastised for my actions.

"In fact, Dorian. Quite against my better judgment, I've already given my heart. Once this," I gestured to the walls, "Inquisition thing is over, I look forward to spending my days at court. I understand a Duchess yields considerable power at the Empresses' court. Good day."

With as much dignity as I could muster, fled to the safety and sanity of the War Table and my council.

* * *

 

Dragon Age Wikia: If Bella takes permanent ownership of the Tavern she renames it "The Grey Wardens'Rest"

 


	19. Love's Labors Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you and virtual hugs to those of you still enjoying this story. For those of you who write your own stories, you know how important this is. I just noticed this when I went to the wikia for a list of DA demons. They match up pretty close to the 7 Deadly Sins. Ha! Aren't those game designers clever?
> 
> Desire demon  
> Despair demon  
> Envy demon  
> Fear demon  
> Hunger demon  
> Pride demon  
> Rage demon  
> Sloth demon  
> Terror demon
> 
> Lust  
> Gluttony  
> Greed  
> Sloth  
> Wrath  
> Envy  
> Pride

_**The Present – A prison cell beneath Skyhold** _

**Dorian**

Mana and self-respect depleted, I lay in a wasted heap on ice-rimmed stones and wait to die. Frankly, I'd rather die than anyone see the shivering, starving mess I've become. Probably too late to call my father for help. Years too late. Just as it is years too late for regret. Perhaps I'll keep my specter around and haunt the castle. That would teach our Dearest Inquisitor a thing or two about trifling with an Altus Mage.

I rolled over on my back to watch the sun creep slowly toward the barred window cut into the six foot thick walls of my cell. Magic or no magic, the window is too high for anyone to reach. Each day I wait for the sun to send a few reluctant rays into my cell to warm my body. Never works, of course. On clear days I listen for sounds in the yard and news of the Inquisitor. The guards won't answer my pleas as to her health. For all I know, she is dead. Dead at my hands, by my arrogance and my reprehensible behavior.

Then often as not, tears trickle from my eyes. It is my fault. All of it. I teased and flirted with a young woman with enough on her shoulders to bow the mightiest of warriors, a king or queen. All through the days of battle and intrigue, she stood strong and unbending. A remarkable woman, our Circe Trevelyan.

I let my mind linger on the memories of that night at the Winter Palace and the dress she wore at the ball. Black is her color. Rich and dark the black silk of the dress matched her hair and the sapphires around her neck reflected the same blue as her eyes. She never noticed how men followed her movement and jealous women sniffed and gossiped behind their masks mocking her country origins and scoffing at her beauty. They weren't fit to draw her bathwater. No. They weren't fit to empty her chamber pot.

When faced with the horrors of Corypheus, that little girl from Ostwick plucked up her courage and faced her enemies. Then she dragged her ragtag group of mercenaries and fools, for that is what we were, kicking and screaming onto a battlefield that saved the world. And now, the world was at peace and in about another day, if I'm any judge, minus one mage. My father will be so very cross with me for not dying, say, bleeding out on the on the floor of the Magisterium.

The last of my water trickles down my throat. My stomach clenched and threatened to empty. But it's an empty threat. I've had nothing to eat in almost three days. It won't be long now. The cell darkened wrapping me in ice and shadow. I won't live to see another morning. I shall pay for my carelessness with my life, and that is as it should be. Circe had a life to live, and I robbed her of it.

The cold is bad tonight, and I curl myself tightly, shivering and weeping like a spoiled child with a broken toy.

_I'm sorry, Circe. I love you. I love you, my nymph. My enchantress._

 

~o0o~

**Circe**

Obviously, the group of whispering townsfolk standing around my bed hadn't expected the first word out of my mouth to be 'Dorian.' But that is what happened. I awoke from somewhere far away. You now how it is when you're so deeply asleep that you feel you can't wake up. Afraid and anxious, I clawed my way up from sleep and called for him. When I shouted his name, they all gasped and took a step back. I don't like the looks on their faces. They didn't answer my question, only stared and with eyes everywhere but on me and stayed mute.

“Commander Cullen. Where is Dorian?”

Cassandra shot him a warning look.

Cullen shook his head, “I will not lie to her. Do what you wish to me, but I will not lie to the Inquisitor.”

Ignoring Liliana's muttering and Cassandra's anger, Cullen took my hand. “Try to remember,” he crooned patting my hand as if I were a child. “The two of you had an argument. He used a spell on you to keep you quiet or stop you from something. We don't know what.”

I remembered all too well. The night of our victory celebration. Dorian and I were dancing on the balcony. Our anger at each other for a situation with no solution. The haphazard spells cast in frustration. Of course, we hadn't meant to hurt each other. I fell, and he caught me and then, placed me on this bed. They must have heard my scream. A scream that sealed Dorian's fate and mine.

Mine because these people of Skyhold, my soldiers, and the confidants who guided patiently through times when I knew I was in over my head still harbor a bone-deep distrust of mages. Without mages, Corypheus would own this world. Without mages, centuries of study and the ancient texts would burn in a bonfire of paranoia and hatred. Without mages demons would rule the world at their whim twisting humans into caricatures of desire, envy, fear and hate. Without mages who would study the Fade and protect the good people of Thedas?

“I remember, Cullen,” I replied as evenly as I could manage. “Tell me now. Where is Dorian? Dissembling isn't like you.”

“He is in the dungeon, Inquisitor.”

If I wasn't before, I'm awake now.

“Inquisitor, he cast a spell and they...we though he killed you.”

“Dorian kill me? Has everyone gone mad?”

Cole appeared at the foot of my bed. His eyes were red as if he'd been crying. Cassandra spoke sharply, “For once shut your mouth Cole or I'll shut it for you.”

“I tried to wake you Lady Trevelyan, but Dorian's careless spell tossed you in a place I could not reach. Perhaps if you hurry, you might save him.”

“Save him? How long have I been asleep?” I demanded shoving my arms into a robe and feet into slippers. I fled the room before they could stop. But it was Cullen who stepped in front of me.

“And what did you imagine might happen, Commander?” My anger was growing. That Dorian might be dead, I could not...would not dwell on. “That I would turn to you? All those months you supported me, even...cared for me. You stupid fool!” I slapped his hands away and ran for the stairs.

The guards didn't dare try and stop me. They stepped aside as I stumbled through door after door.

“Dorian!” I shouted until tears choked me into silence. “Dorian!”

This was like walking through the demonic castle in Redcliffe. The horrors of searching for Liliana and all the while wondering if we would end up like Fiona. With my heart beating hard enough to steal my breath I pushed those memories away and ran.

It was Cole who helped me find him. I turned a corner, and there he was standing outside a cell with tears streaming down his face. The guards leaped away from the spell I aimed at the iron lock. When the door slammed open, I hurried to his side.

I didn't expect one of his mischievous grins or a flirtatious remark. The cell was thick with filth and stale air But this... This was unsupportable. My Dorian. My love, what have they done to you? I gagged, swallowed hard and dropped to my knees. A healing spell glowed between my hands before I touched him. I would not cry or lose control. He needed me.

The spell brought some color to his cheeks. But his flesh was so cold. So cold. Prayers to Andraste formed in my mind, but I pushed them away. His pulse throbbed under my fingertip. My heart sang, he was alive, and I vowed to keep him that way.

“Dorian?”

Someone handed me a blanket, and I tucked it around him.

“Dorian? It's Circe. Open your eyes, my love.” I crooned every kind word I could think of. I may have sung a lullaby. If I stopped talking, he might die, and that would not happen. So I kept talking and carded my fingers through his hair.

Then it happened. One light green eye opened. “I am your love now, am I?”

“You know you are. You've always known it.”

Bursting into helpless tears of joy threatened common sense. That would do him no good. I climbed to my feet and began shouting orders.

“You!” I shouted at one of the guards. “Carry him to my chambers. Have male servants ready to bath him.”

“My lady, he is covered in vermin. Better we bath him down here. We'll bring him to you when we're finished. If that's alright, my lady?”

Cullen appeared at my shoulder. “Go back upstairs, Inquisitor. I'll supervise his bath. He'll need fresh water and nourishing food. Please. Let me do this for you...for him. Let me atone for my stupidity.”

~o0o~

I paced my room and waited an eternity for them to bring Dorian to me. The bed was turned down (how shocked he'll be to find himself in the Inquisitor's bed), thick broth simmered on a brazier and a pitcher of fresh water waited by the bedside. Rage burned under the surface of my emotions. Betrayal stung tugging at my heart. How could they? For now, I will focus only on Dorian. The rest will wait.

At last, there's footsteps on the stairs. It's Cullen who carries Dorian into the room. Without looking at me, Cullen placed Dorian on the bed. Everyone including Cullen bowed themselves out of the room. When the room was quiet, I ladled a bowl of fragrant soup and found a pair of familiar green eyes watching me.

“Does the Inquisition give out awards for stubborn stupidity, Inquisitor?”

“Perhaps. Although, I'll have to award one to you and one to me. We'll let Cullen officiate at the ceremony. What do you think?”

“I think...” He shook his head and closed his eyes. “Please, come closer, Circe. Let me see you. I lay in that cell thinking I'd killed you. I watched you die.”

There were no words to ease his grief. A grief that matched my own. The people we spent so many months fighting with, planning for the inevitable victory over Corypheous and sitting around a campfire sharing stories seemed cheapened and false now. It's not that I don't understand their distrust of mages, it's that after all these months they tossed Dorian in a cell and left him there to die. They might not say the word, but their intentions were clear.

When he'd eaten enough to satisfy me, I carefully set the empty bowl aside and locked the entrance to my quarters. We had each other now, as friends or whatever he needed from me.

Without asking, I kicked off my shoes and stretched out alongside Dorian. He didn't comment, merely opened his arms and settled me next to him with my head on his chest. When I knew that he was asleep, I bit down on my knuckles and wept.

 

**Dorian**

She wouldn't want me to know about her tears, so I stayed silent while she wept out her grief. She'll feel better for it, but I have no such release, so I buried the actions of Cullen and his lot and turned my attentions to Circe. While I'm busy compartmentalizing those emotions and coming to terms with the fact that I'm not dead a few things begin to rise to my awareness. A piece of Circe's hair draped across my cheek tickles my nose. I've never, not once, spent the night with a partner. Do you think that strange? Couples in Tevinter do not sleep together. They may spend the night fucking, but it is considered quite declassé to spend the night with one's spouse. Impromptu affairs last long enough to complete whatever sex acts were agreed upon and go their separate ways. This makes waking up with someone next to me a novelty.

Soft and warm beside me, my Circe sleeps with her hand tucked under her chin. Her breath is sweet puffs against the bare skin of my chest. I've never watched her sleep. There were days when I wondered if she slept at all.

The food and a night's sleep refreshed me, and I'm almost myself again. When the sun cast it's first rays of light against the windows, I slowly rise trying not to wake Circe. She will not understand that while I pondered the thought of seeing those blue eyes when she first awakened, my body hardened with desire or perhaps I need to piss? She will not know the difference, and I won't embarrass her with my base needs.

I slid from beneath the blankets intent on the private chamber across the room when I turned my gaze to the sleeping beauty. My toes curled away from the cold stones, but my body...my body flushed with need. Sometime during the night, she undressed down to her small clothes. Now she sleeps peacefully on her back. My eyes inspect the fine curves of her woman's body. Her breasts are smallish and high. The long legs muscled and shapely. I'm mesmerized by the rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps.

Have I lost my mind, I wonder as I'm drawn to the idea of sinking into her curves and suckling the nipple which pokes impudently through the fine linen of her chemise. As my desire turns to lust, I know that I will be the man who draws a cry of fulfillment from her lips. It will be my name she whispers in the night when I fill her body. Not Cullen. Not Bull. Not the Duke—I suspect she's lying about this—with whom she claimed to have promised herself.

And when she is mine, her small clothes will be made of silk. I turned away and fled from her when my mind flashed on dark silk soaked with my kisses.

* * *

 

 

Circe: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Circe


	20. Always Beside Me

 

* * *

"All I want is freedom,

A world with no more night;

And you, always beside me,

To hold me and to hide me."

Andrew Lloyd Weber, "All I Ask of You" _The Phantom of the Opera_

* * *

 

**Circe**

Hard to focus on my book with a restless, angry mage prowling my room. The morning of the second day had dawned and knew I had to face my council. No matter what else had happened, I was still the Inquisitor. No matter my feelings on the subject I couldn't stay locked in my room forever. The birds chirping outside my windows called to me. Spring was around the corner and the garden would need tending. My book closed with a snap when I met Dorian's eyes across the chamber.

He'd come back to life quickly with sleep and food. His book abandoned on his chair, he paced my room from the balcony to the fireplace and table, eager for release. It was time. I dressed carefully and called a meeting at the War Table. After I had dismissed the messenger, Dorian stopped pacing long enough to hand me a cup of tea.

"What will you do, Circe?" The tea he pressed into my hand was warm and fragrant. I took a sip before answering knowing this would give me time to rehearse for the council's reactions. I could not forgive what they did to Dorian.

I hadn't been prepared for the change of what happened after. After we killed Corypheus. After we managed to live through it. Never seemed to be enough time to worry about that. The thought of leaving here scared me. The continuous fighting allowed me to push the fear away. Today, with Dorian's reassuring presence I was ready, and the words came surprisingly easy.

"I am confident that my part in the Inquisition is finished. The mark in my hand fades day by day. I love this castle, Dorian. After what they did to you. I cannot stay. Cullen might make a good Inquisitor," I said with the relief of knowing you're making the right decision and the understanding that in spite of Skyhold and the others I was ready to move on.

Move on? Where? Back home to my father's court? Back to a quiet life of study and contemplation. What did I want? Dorian was right about the suitors. As a valuable commodity on Theda's marriage market, I could take my pick of men—and a handful of women. Dorian and I found all this terribly amusing. We spent time shifting through their portraits and reading their resumes, while Dorian made me laugh with his descriptions of life with this or that nobleman. One or two of them were handsome enough, I suppose. I should marry, but I'm not ready. That's something I'm also sure of.

If I may be blunt, the Inquisition put enough coin in my pocket to build a castle of my choosing. I certainly knew where I wouldn't build a home. That was easy. I'd seen enough of stinking wastelands. Perhaps in Ostwick? A home of my own, with a well-stocked library. Warm stones under my feet without the stench of ravens or the taint of ancient blood. Possibly in the Vimmark Mountains overlooking Ostwick or Kirkwall? Or deep in the Arlathan Forest where I could live out my days in solitude. My fame and mystery as the crazy forest mage growing with each generation.

"He will ask you to say, Circe." Dorian's logic startled me from my musings.

"I'm afraid that is likely," I responded. "He sees himself as my savior."

"From whom?"

"You very well know, Dorian Pavus. From you. From you." It felt good to joke with him again. Two days alone in my quarters gave us time to talk. We cleared the air and the friendship I cherish returned to our usual teasing banter. We had not touched the subject of that night on my balcony or his time in the cell.

"Do you wish to be saved from the dreaded Mage from Tevinter?"

"Never!" I replied with a flourish of my hand. "I can save myself. I learned many things in these last months."

"At the Winter Palace?" He prompted.

This conversation about noble men and women began last night. It seems we might continue this morning. There are things I wanted him to understand about me. That I had changed and I had grown up. Even if we never saw each other again, I wanted him to know.

"Yes, at the Winter Palace. I learned things about men and women that I'm not sure I wanted to know. It seems that men and women, no matter the circumstance of their birth, crave what they cannot have. Spouses grant each other leave to pursue...uh, other activities. I learned that spouses do not share a bedroom. I overheard two women gossiping. One commented to the other she was thankful her new husband wouldn't burden her with too many babies. I didn't understand at first. I am the youngest of six children. My parents always shared a bed. The men. They take lovers, and their wives expect it. What I don't understand is why they aren't hurt by it." Words helped my thoughts meander my way to understanding. "Dorian, my parent's loved each other and cherished their children."

"Not always, as you know. Love is a luxury Tevinter's cannot afford. It's quite declassé. And there are always those who struggle for power in a relationship, politics, sex. Yes? It is customary once the woman provides a viable heir, for the couple to take lovers. Understand, Circe, these men and women did not come together for love. They accomplish what is expected of them, keep up appearances and appear at functions together. Beyond their public responsibilities, Tevinter couples often live separate lives. It is not out of the ordinary, and it is accepted."

I nodded as understanding dawned. "Just as you told me that whatever happens between two men is accepted but taken no further."

"Yes." His eyes flickered, and he glanced away. How lonely he must have been watching these men leave him to return to their families. "I'm sorry, Dorian. My words seem childish now. I didn't understand until this moment how lonely life was for you in Tevinter."

"Don't dwell on it. Circe, the man who loved you, would treat you better than any lover. Never embarrass you or cause dishonor to the family."

That was unexpected. Just how many layers of meaning were there to this conversation?

"Thank you for saying that."

Dorian's longer-fingered hand warmed my cheek. "It is a simple truth. And, my love, it can be that simple."

The effect of his hand on my cheek set me trembling. I needed to get to the War Table, but his touch made me linger. With his eyes stormy like a shallow sea whipped by the wind, Dorian swept his thumb over my lips watched for my reaction. His expression softened at my sharp inhale. When my lips parted, he slipped his thumb inside wetting the tip.

"You are a seductive mystery, Circe. An exotic mixture of a country girl with strawberry jam on her lip and a fierce leader."

His free arm circled my waist. His breath is warm on my face sent shivers down my spine. "I know you must leave our little sanctuary. There are decisions that only you can make. Just know this, my love."

I managed in breathless response a meek, "What?"

"I too have changed. I could not have said this a year ago, today the man about to give you your first kiss loves you and would never deliberately cause you pain. You know that, yes?"

He's so close. I watched mesmerized by the pulse of his heart throbbing at the place where his jaw and neck meet. When his fingertips dug into my scalp, I wondered if it were to still his trembling. I copied his idea by winding my hands into the folds of his robe. Something to hang onto in the wild imaginings he set in motion. His hair tumbled over his forehead like a boy's and competed with the darkly masculine stubble on his cheeks.

Dorian tilted my chin and then it's all there. The mustache tickling my cheek. The heated mana and leather scent of him. The rich strawberry and dark tea taste of him. I don't know how to kiss, which is rather embarrassing because exactly how do you satisfy a man of the world such as Dorian Pavus?

Sensuous lips, skilled enough for the most sated courtier, moved against mine, encouraging my participation and tasting are not the shy affections of Cullen or the clinical manipulations of Bull. It's a deliberate teasing of my needs. Each sweep of his tongue sends me quivering into abandonment.

My world filled with this powerful man, heated blood danced along my skin sending scorching needs down my limbs. My breasts swelled and awakened with the need for attention. Dorian answered by opening my collar and moving his lips to my neck. His nimble fingers opened my clothes, and each kiss burned a path to my aching breasts. His mouth stopped at the pulse throbbing at my throat.

This, at last, is Dorian. His power, the grasping strength of his hands on me. When I arch my hips against his, it's to ease the wet rush of pain between my legs, he lifted me and pushed me against the wall. His passion grinds pulsing and hard against my belly.

I tore my mouth from him to plead for something to quench the fire burning me alive. When I did, he lifted my legs around his waist and pushed me against the wall so hard I almost lost my breath.

It was between those hard-earned for breaths that he released me.

A man is such a state of arousal was terrifying and erotic beyond my ability to fit in the spaces of my scattered thoughts. Always handsome, Dorian fairly glowed with mana shimmering over over the peaks and valleys of his sturdy frame. He chuckled against my cheek, "I go too far. Forgive my coarse behavior."

"Ignoring my protests, Dorian tucked me under his chin. Smoothing his hands over my shoulders and back to calm me. I wasn't in the mood for soothing. I wanted him and all he represented. A sophisticated woman who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to take it. A desirable woman who could turn a man like Dorian's attention. A sophisticated couturier. A refined and talented mage.

"Dorian, wait. The night on my balcony. We haven't talked..."

Breathing hard with his hands curled into fists and the evidence of his desire straining against the lacing of his leather pants.

"No! I could not endure it."

"Endure what?"

He dismissed me with a wave of his hand, "Go. Face them down, Circe."

I backed up until I found a wall to hold me upright. My body shivered and burned for his touch. My nose remembered his scent but my arms were empty. "Dorian. I expected more from your fine Tevinter manners than to leave me in such a state."

"You expect too much of me in general, my dearest Inquisitor. The War Council awaits." Dorian snapped at me in a tone that endured no interruption. What he awakened in me no battle would quench, no spirited intellectual discussion quiet and no exercises of legerdemain would sate.

"Dorian, if I were a man..."

With rage flashing in his eyes, he shouted at me, "If you were a man...what?"

"I would push you against that wall and show you what you brought to life in me. Take your hand and force you to feel the drenched heat between my legs and the hard ache of my breasts. If I were a man I might drop to my knees in front of you as I watched Harry do for you. Would you kiss me again if I did? Would you give me just that much of yourself?"

Dorian roared at me, "Go."

But I'm not afraid of him. A year of avoiding the truth about each other. A year of denial. A year of learning what it meant to be a woman. Apparently, he wasn't ready for me to walk out the door.

"Do you think I could touch you and then walk away? Would you have me simper and fawn like your Commander Cullen? That I don't need."


	21. One Love One Lifetime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Took me awhile to notice, but in the scene where you first meet Felix and Dorian, as he leaves, he turns to Felix with his hands formed in a shape. Then he says, “And Felix, try not to die.” It appears like a triangle until I finally realized it must be the sign of Andraste. Dorian is doing more than teasing his friend he's bestowing a blessing. I could be wrong though. Especially since I've been misspelling Leliana's name throughout the story. Thank you for dropping by.
> 
> "Forty thousand brothers  
> Could not, with all their quantity of love,  
> Make up my sum.”
> 
> William Shakespeare, _Hamlet_ Act 5, Scene 1

* * *

“Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime  
Let me lead you from your solitude  
Say you need me with you here, beside you  
Anywhere you go, let me go too  
Christine, that's all I ask of you.”  
“Phantom Of The Opera.” _All I Ask Of You_

* * *

  
**Dorian**

  
Alone on Circe's balcony, I warmed my soul in the morning rays of a sun that rose over the mountains flooding Skyhold with a pure and golden light. Our world, untainted with the miasma of Corypheus' evil and the specter of death was at peace. The shadows that followed us for so many months were chased away by victory and right triumphing over evil. It's happened many times, this battle of good and evil and it will happen again in my lifetime. For now, I'm content. My eyes closed and my fingers formed the sign of Andraste. My prayers came easily today.

“Andraste. Mother of us all. Thank you for your many gifts in my life.”

_You allowed her to escape again, my son._

I shouldn’t be surprised she answered so quickly. The chastising tone didn’t surprise me either. “Yes, my Lady. Circe has much to do and does not need me interfering.”

_She is young and in many ways still a girl who believes in happy-ever-after and the eternal love between a man and a woman. How many times do you think the two of you can run from each other before she finds what she seeks in the arms of another? You do not lack the courage._

“No, Mother. I lack the ability to believe that someone so special loves me. That there is a life for me to live different from any I could imagine.”

_She is special. She is my herald. Many men bind their woman and seek to extinguish the light all women are born with. You have seen that in your travels have you not?_

“Yes, I have. Women cast down or smothered by their man's selfish needs and made old by constant childbearing.” My fingers crushed together until the knuckles bleached. I know it as sure as I know I must return to Tevinter that she is right. It grieves me to think that might be Circe's fate. She is so much more than a man's adornment. A dress-up doll to show off to the other nobles by using her to display his wealth. A brood mare for his heirs. No. A sob rose in my chest forcing its way into my throat until it closed and my only outlet was the tears streaming down my face. Not my Circe! The beauty of the morning faded in light of her truth, but Andraste was not done with me. My gut twisted in response, but I could not deny their reality. And how long have I denied this truth? How long have I played at loving Circe as if it were a game that everyone could win?

_If you do not raise your courage to her level. If you fail her again, she will eventually meet a man who seeks to hide her light, but she will mistake it for love. It is the fate of many women. You shy away from the Bull's wisdom. He knows that you and Circe are meant to be. You close your ears to Cole's words. My son, the two of you are stronger together than apart. Mage's heart to Mage's heart. You know this, my son. Your heart knows this as truth. Why do you not act on it?_

The light of the morning sun rose over the mountains and left the balcony in shadow. I opened my eyes and wiped the tears from my face. To the new day, I shouted. “I love you, Circe” and tasted for the first time words that I never said before. As the last word echoed through the canyon the strength of what I felt for Circe flowed through me. You may call it love if you wish, but there is so much more to this bond between us. I will be a husband to my Circe. I will remain steadfast through the births of our children, the pressures of Tevinter life and I know, although it breaks my heart because I am not worthy—she will do the same for me. With stinging eyes, blindly sought her desk and put pen to paper.

  
**Circe**

It's done. My steps take wing as I hurry back to my quarters. I'm free. Free of the Inquisition and the burden of responsibilities I no longer believe in. The first person I see on my rush down the great hall is Varric watching me expectantly. He stood by the fireplace in his usual spot, but this time there's a grin on his face.

  
“Word travels quickly, Inquisitor. For what it's worth I applaud your decision. We've done our part here. It's time to move on. Turn the page, so to speak.”

“Thank you, Varric. I shall miss you and your humor. You always gave me wise counsel and lifted me with laughter when I needed it. Thank you.”

He bowed at the waist. “I have a message for you. A cryptic poem. You'll be impressed that I didn't interpret it for you.”

“I am impressed.” I accepted the small parchment, and we shared a laugh. I will miss him. I turned to the firelight.

**Not by courier, gossip or crow**

**She neither toils, spins or sows**

**Yet, she is your ears and eyes**

**Grace and Favor, or Soldier, Spy?**

This was obviously in Dorian's handwriting. Well, let's see what he's up to. Leliana sat quietly at her desk and didn't bother to look up when I entered the room. I should be surprised that she allowed me in her quarters. After all, I am no longer privy to the information scattered over her desk in the form of hastily penned letters jockeying for position among the maps, lists, and sketches. Leliana used the tip of her quill pen to push the note in my direction.

“One last piece of advice, my Lady. Do not allow your girlish infatuation to lead you to an unhappiness you cannot repair. There will be no mark upon your hand to set things right in Tevinter. Dorian Pavus is nothing more than a novelty among his people. His father's political aspirations a source of humor and infamy.”

“Bitch.” Came out before I could stop myself. She merely raised an eyebrow. Shocked at my words turned to relief that I no longer lived under her stewardship.

“Good day, Lady Trevelyan. And, good luck. As you will most assuredly require a great deal of it to survive whatever future you and Dorian fashion for yourselves.”

 _How about I fashion a fireball and burn the hair off your head?_ I thought and wondered just how to go about it. Instead, I grabbed the note and fled. I didn't stop walking until I found myself in the War Room. Quiet, shadowed and empty, the room suited my mood. I found a chair and opened the second note. More evidence the letters were penned by Dorian. The halting lines of his poetry were not difficult to identify.

**Your paladin of castle and field**

**Stubborn, powerful and never to yield**

**Your bulwark and man for all seasons**

**Unpredictable, stubborn, your loyal liegeman**

The Bull wasn't hard to find. He must have watched me walking through the castle and followed my trail. The place where he led me was private and quiet. He took my hand and pressed the note into my palm.

“Circe?” He began then stopped and shook his massive head, apparently putting a stop to whatever he meant to say. With thoughts of the night he cooled the strange fire that threatened to consume me and gently carried me to bed, I stood on my toes and kissed his cheek. In one quick grab, he lifted me off my feet and into his arms.

“Has that vint kissed you, yet?”

I blushed so hard I think the roots of my hair began to smolder. He only laughed.

“Good. I don't want to be your first kiss. Doesn't seem proper.”

I braced myself for the impact his mouth on mine, but it was not to be. Soft as the mist rising on an early spring morning and sweet as warm cinnamon buns from the kitchens Bull kissed me. Overwhelmingly male I couldn't resist him anymore than I could resist him that afternoon. How could such a man wield such violence and touch me so tenderly? When he thought I'd had enough—not sure how he knew because I certainly didn't, he set me upon my feet.

Against my lips, he murmured, “You know I love you. Follow your heart, Circe. That vint can give you what you need and more. More than I ever could.” With his forehead pressed to mine, he huffed a laugh. “I don't even own a proper shirt. But if you need me, you have only to call, and I'll be at your side.”

My arms around his neck, I murmured, “Thank you isn't enough. Although I am still just a country girl from the Free Marches, I make the same vow to you. If you need me, let my staff be your sword and magic your shield.”

He nodded, and I swear his eyes glinted in the candlelight. Before I turned to go he stopped me and bent his head to my ear, “You don't really smell like pork that's been left out in the sun.”

We both laughed and the sad moment of parting became the easy laughter of friends. I shook away the blues that threatened to rise and found a quiet corner to read my note.

“ **Forty thousand brothers**

**Could not, with all their quantity of love,**

**Make up my sum.”**

**Don't be too impressed, Circe. I stole that from someone else. Some hack named William...don't remember his last name.**

**My friend, my light, my unicorn**

**My joy, my warmth is a lady born**

**What pleasure I find in my rose**

**Fairest Mage Flower wake me from my doze**

**I release my heart into your power**

**Seek my lonely bower**

**—I call my fair unicorn!**

**A place of privacy to meet**

**A hidden place of savory and sweet**

 

**Dorian**

As I struggled to set the table just so and arrange the flowers to their best advantage, I realized that seduction, on the whole, was easier than what I planned. A port in the storm? A single night of intense pleasure unhindered by expectations? Domination, submission or a bit of bondage play? These come naturally to me as day followed by night, as Spring follows Winter and old age follows youth. And I shall turn twenty-six on my next name-day and what do I have to show for myself?

I lighted the candles and noticed mana simmers under my skin sending sparks down my limbs. The candles carry light up the stone walls of the small room and illuminate the table set with fine porcelain and crystal. My hands are beginning to show the effort of wielding a staff. My indulgences have begun to show on my face. Yes? The drinking, the late nights and the scars I earned fighting with the Inquisition. My hands have started to ache on cold mornings. The Inquisition extracted a price from me. I do not regret a single moment and I never shall. Life, to survive must move forward, learning new ideas and reforging old ones. All this philosophizing does nothing to quell the mana rising inside me. Without expression, the mana will turn me languid. I closed my eyes against the flickering candlelight and allow the unspent mana to possess me. I'm about to admit that I'm frankly terrified when the door opened.

“Circe!” I blurted giving my fear its head. While I silenced the shouting of should and cannot, I watched my Inquisitor glance around the room. Her eyes widened when her eyes landed on the small black box in the center of her dinner plate. She changed from the breeches and jacket she had on this morning. Dressed in a simple gown of dark blue under a black leather coat which opened in the front to show the color of the dress she glittered in the candlelight like an unfettered sapphire. Does she like what she sees? Am I too late? Finally, her gaze landed on me, and I found myself unprepared. Then as she walked toward me with her hand extended I knew my love for her held enough truths to build a future upon. I kissed her hand and knew that I desired to follow such a chaste kiss with passion. My lovemaking, although, unsure or inexperienced, if you will, would come from my heart and the desire to give myself and my heart into her keeping.

I kissed her hand and knew that I desired to follow such a chaste kiss with passion. My lovemaking, although, unsure or inexperienced, if you will, would come from my heart and the desire to give myself and my heart into her keeping. When her hand touched my cheek, the strength and purity of her magic sent me reeling. Such fortitude did she possess that I nearly retreated. I kissed her hand and led her to the table. Any artifice of the situation fell away when I filled her wine glass. She raised her glass and smiled. I answered her silent toast and we set to eating.

We enjoyed our meal silently, while my imagination flew. Circe in candlelight with jewels sparkling from ears. Circe with smudged cheeks sitting cross-legged by the flickering flames of a campfire silhouetted by the stars. Circe in my arms as we circle the ballroom, the envy of everyone. Circe clad only in Orlesian lace and fine linen on the balcony outside my rooms on my family's estate. I see her there in my mind's eye, her slim body outlined by the stars, then heavy with full breasts resting on a belly filled with our child. She interrupted my musings with an observation so obvious I almost questioned her wit.

“You're quite handsome in the candlelight, Dorian.”

“Yes, yes, anyone with eyes can see that. Is there more you wish to add?”

A glint of mischief flickered in her eyes and I knew I'd been had. I can take it, Circe.

“Well,” she said setting down her fork and pressing the napkin to her lips. “The beef is perfectly seasoned and the bread is fresh and still warm.”

“And the vegetables are tender.” I snapped, my impatience growing. Then she took my hand and the bluster faded. I grasped the offered fingers and leaned forward. “I’m glad you’re here.”

And if that was the most honest words I’d uttered I was glad for it. An eagerness took hold of me

“Thank you for the invitation and the poetry. Your company is always welcome.”

Her hand pulled from my grip. How can she sit there so calm and reserved while I'm bursting with ideas and plans for our future! I love her and I will make her happy. Look at her sipping wine as if we're sitting at the feasting table in the main hall. Doesn't she understand my purpose? My darling Circe will be the queen of Minrathous society. I dropped to my knees.

“Can't you guess why I invited you here?” Idiot. My wits are scattered! Just when I thought I had her attention she almost jumped from her chair upsetting the wine and sending the bottle crashing to the floor. If I hadn't caught her at the door, she'd have made it to the corridor. I pressed her against the door with my body and framed her face in my hands. “Circe, it is time for truth between us. Yes?”

The fight went out of her and she relaxed. I didn't know what to make of it. She grasped my wrists and pulled my hands away. “Dorian. I've made up my mind to leave Skyhold.”

  
What was she saying? “Of course. You'll leave here and come with me to Tevinter. We'll explore my homeland together.” I managed to stop myself from revealing too much. Five minutes ago, I was ready to open my heart to her, now that moment had somehow passed.

She was here, in my arms and I ruined it...somehow... I couldn't bear to hear Circe's next words. The gut punch of it took the air from my body.

“For the first time, I'm free. I want to explore Thedas. Visit the cities. Dorian, you have family obligations. I am aware of the letter that arrived this morning summoning you home. I won't stand in your way.”

No. This would not do. “Circe...you'll come with me. We'll be together.”

She twisted away and retrieved her wine glass. Making a great show of drinking from the goblet as if it were the most important thing in her world. In my entire life, I've never felt so out of control. I would loose her and all my plans, my dreams would dissolve. My gut clenched...my chest closed...It hurt.

“Those were the dreams of a young girl charmed by a handsome mage from Tevinter.”

She was generous with a kind smile, but she wasn't finished. Every word felt like a whip upon my soul. My life's blood seemed to drain away, taking my mana with it. Months ago, I fell on the battlefield and as I lay there imagining what it was like to die, Circe had revived me. This hurt much worse. I was dying. Andraste, guide me.

“His exotic looks and sharp wit caught her heart. She's grateful for all she's learned from him, but she's no longer blinded by her girlish dreams.”

“Circe, I love you. You...we can't just throw that away.”

The blushing girl vanished and Circe the confident and poised woman appeared. What had I to offer such a woman? Her hand on my shoulder felt like a dagger plunging into bone and sinew.

“Dorian. You know I love you. But we are both free now. Thank you for this enchanting evening and all the moments between us that brought us to this night. I will never forget you, but I understand now, there is no room for me in the life you'll fashion for yourself in Tevinter.”

She leaned toward me and kissed my cheek.

“I'll say goodnight. I leave before dawn. May all your dreams come true, my friend and my first love.”

I could only stare at the door as it closed and Circe walked out of my life.


	22. Beware the Hungry Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more about Dorian and Circe than the plot of Trespasser. I'll use elements of the plot, but that's all. Thanks and virtual hugs to those of you who stayed with Dorian and Circe. Some of you write your own stories and know how much feedback means.

 

* * *

 "It never troubles the wolf how many the sheep may be." Virgil

* * *

 

**Circe**

  
I rode through the gates of Skyhold on a chilly morning in early fall wondering what fate lay in store for me this time. My hard-won freedom lasted exactly three months. Only Cullen's letter begging me to return brought me back to the place I'd worked so hard to put behind me. It was nothing more than a fool's hope. I spent the first month of freedom with my family. Though, I soon chaffed under their well-meaning attempts to treat me like the daughter they'd known or wanted to know or wished for me to become. My father invited eligible young men to the estate for me to inspect. While my mother berated me for sullying my reputation by keeping company with ruffians, mercenaries and 'vints' of questionable motives. If she only knew.

Cullen's letter caught up with me at the vast library in the Winter Palace. As a guest of the Empress, I enjoyed a suite of private rooms and complete access to the library. I poured over books of literature, magic, and philosophy at my leisure. Only once or twice a day did I turn to show Dorian something I knew would interest him. I'd search for the crooked smile and green eyes, only to discover the depth of emotion stinging my own eyes reminding me of how much I missed his presence. He didn't need me, I scolded myself ignoring the empty sound of the words and the ache in my heart. It did no good to pine for him. Tevinter needed him more than I and what did I have to offer him?

My tired horse picked his way across the empty yard. It was only when we reached the stables that I allowed myself to look up. Although quiet and the familiar sounds and smells of the Inquisition soon invaded my senses. My team had dispersed weeks ago, but I could still see them in the yard. The Iron Bull standing under the hayloft arguing with Blackwell and Crem telling them to shut up because they sounded like children. To which The Bull usually replied, “Isn't the whole point?”

In the shadow of the bailey, I see Cassandra and Cullen with their head's together, pointedly ignoring Liliana apparently trying to listen in. I wondered if Cullen and Cassandra found each other, at last? They seemed perfect together, both tall with the kind of strength you can't teach. One dark the other light. One steadfast and rooted to the earth, while Cassandra was a warrior to match his skills, but also a spiritual woman with deep and passionate faith.

The only one to notice my arrival was a groom. He helped me dismount. For a moment I kept my hand on his shoulder when my tired legs refused the job of holding me up. Then he gathered my tired horse's reins and tugged the brim of his cap.

“Welcome back, Lady Trevelyan. T'aint been the same since you left. The commander is usually to be found in the War Room this time of day, ma'am.”  
“Does Lord Pavus still reside here?” I asked and wondered if I had put the Inquisition behind me why I needed or cared to know about Dorian. Surely he had moved on, as I most certainly had.

“No, My Lady. He left a few hours before you. Ain't my business ma'am, but he was as upset as I ever seen a man. Took a horse without asking. He's always nice to me, so I didn't squawk. Let him take that pretty bay with the matching socks, I did. My Lady, forgive my forward speaking, but I seen all of you tired, scared, angry, or joking around like good friends, but I never seen Lord Pavus flat out baby-cryin' Have you heard about him? I hope Andraste smiles on him.”

“No, Peter I haven't heard anything.” His concern was so genuine that I squeezed his shoulder and smiled. Then I left the groom and followed the familiar passages to the War Room retracing my steps along familiar ground. It'd only been a season the intensity of those days made it seem a lifetime ago. I wondered what had made Dorian upset and why he left so early. I knew he planned to wait a week or two until the spring rains eased up.

The great oak doors opened easily and there stood Commander Cullen engrossed in a scrap of parchment. Handsome as ever the morning shafts of sunlight sending hints of gold across his fair head. When he didn't look up, I spoke quietly. I knew what he could do with that broadsword, and it wouldn't do to startle him.

“Have I changed so much, Commander?”

“Inquisitor!”

He was at my side in quick strides. I think he might have hugged me but his natural reticence prevented him from such public displays. Instead, he bowed over my hand.

“Have you just arrived? Are you hungry? You'll want to freshen up. Come. Your room is just as you left it. I'll order food, and we can meet in your quarters. Until we decide what to do, what I must tell you requires secrecy.”

With that hurried speech, he left me at the door to my old quarters. My hand shook a little when I reached for the handle. The door swung open, and memories poured over me like water that's been damned for too long. I came to the Inquisition and untried girl of eighteen and departed a warrior mage with little left in the world to surprise me.

After Cullen left, one of the housemaids assisted me with bathing and dressing. While she combed out my hair, I allowed my memories to slip back to the days of the Inquisition. And there was Dorian. Always Dorian, smiling, laughing, flirting and fighting until, his mana depleted, he could no longer hold his mage's staff upright. I remember a night in the desert when he tried to hide his injured hands. Of course, I noticed it when he reached for a bowl of food, and it tumbled from his fingers splattering stew into the fire.

“Too tired to eat. Yes?” He stated in a bored voice. “I'll say goodnight.”  
I followed him straight into his tent. He whirled as if startled. The anger he tried to show lost to the pain. I could see it in his eyes, and the shadows revealed his hollow and pale cheeks.

“Inquisitor a man requires an occasional moment of privacy. If you don't mind?”

“Let me see your hands.”

He backed away from me. “Is that an order, Dearest Inquisitor?”

“Yes, my Dearest Lord Pavus. It is an order.” Unless he could move through the walls of this tent I had him trapped. “It will only take a moment.” I heard the soothing tones of my mother's voice in my words. “Let me help.”  
With an exaggerated sigh, Dorian finally extended his hands to me. The tiny ball of light I conjured revealed burns blackened by soot and miasma. My heart cried out for him, but I kept my thoughts to myself and wove a healing spell over his blistered palms. A long sigh went out of him as the pain ebbed and he placed an arm around my shoulders. Glad for the support I leaned into him.

“Now look what you've done, Circe. You've worn yourself over nothing.”

“Not nothing. Everything.” Tumbled out before I could stop it. If he heard me, he chose not to respond. Instead, he pulled me close and held me, until, finally, he pushed me away with a gentle smile.  
“Out,” he laughed and gave me a shove. “Before your presence in my tent ruins both our reputations. Good night, my dearest Circe.”

The maid distracted me from the memories when she began to braid my hair. Then a knock at the inner door of my quarters startled us both. The light tapping set the hairs on my neck to rise. My staff sat propped against the wall out of reach on the other side of the room. I reminded myself that this was not the Inquisition and it was unlikely that demons were about. Yet when the maid hurried for the door, I quickly tied off the braid with a ribbon. Mana answered my call and set my hands and feet tingling.

The sunny morning changed as my eyes searched the room. Footsteps on the stone stairs. The sunlight filtering through my windows broke sending a swirling stink into my room. Rooted to the floor the scent of death clawed at my throat and the cold stone sent rivulets of ice into my legs.  
An instinct born of fighting with the Inquisition sent me reaching for my staff. I put the tendrils of horror flickering to life inside my head aside and forced myself to take the first step. The room narrowed, then collapsed while green fire ignited the bedding and carpet. When the miasma reached my staff, I watched it take flight and topple over the edge of the balcony.

The horrors around me suddenly coalesced into a shape. A form I knew well. The smell of death and rot permeated the air. And there is Solas standing not two feet from me and staring at me with a look, that to be honest, took all coherent thought from my head and left me panting for air.

“Solas.” I stretched my hand to him, without gagging on the fetid air and managed a smile. “It's good to see you.”

“Always so pretty. So formal. So correct.” Solas bowed over my hand. When he touched me the odor of wet dog swept the room like a wave on the Wild Coast. Not like the friendly wolfhounds and occasional mabari that made their home here, but a dog...no, a wolf. A wolf reeking of blood from a fresh kill. The image of dripping entrails caught in the teeth of a rabid animal closed my throat.

“Are you well, Inquisitor?”

I heard the mage's question, but the words I needed to form an answer would not come. I'd faced down worse than a few images hadn't I? Whatever was happening here, I could overcome...would overcome. I forced my mouth into a smile. But fear flickered like a new fire against my eyes and threatened to overcome my courage. Too late I summoned a defense spell. I had managed to say his name.

At the sound, flames smoldered in his eyes and green fire shot to life surrounding us like a curtain. Then his hand squeezed mine in a grip that brought me to my knees. Nails as dirty the filth that putrefies a wound pierced my palm.

The walls of my rooms shrank and shriveled before my eyes. The window panes rattled in their frames. The stink of the Fade grew until I had no air to breathe. Blood, hot enough to burn my flesh flowed down my arm. The bones in my hand ground together until I heard them crack.

My spell rose within me, fighting its way out. With no time to identify the cause, I sent my defense spell against Solas. For a moment, the miasma parted. His eyes widened, and I wondered, with a spark of guilt if he were responsible for this. Then it was over, and Solas held my hand watching me like the most solicitous of courtiers.

“Come, my Lady. Let me pour you some wine. I fear you're overtired from your long journey.”

More footsteps on the stairs and the sound of booted feet. Then Cullen is with us, and the world settled down. I caught his eyes and slid my gaze toward Solas. He nodded slightly, turned and greeted Solas like a long lost friend. I wondered if Solas realized the depth of Cullen's dislike toward him. A brilliant soldier and statistician, and when necessary a shrewd politician. Cullen smiled magnanimously and accepted Solas' offered hand.

“Welcome back, Solas. And now that we are all together you can share your news with us.”

Cullen's words held more than a hint of command tone. I felt grateful for it. If Solas were up to something, he needed to understand he had our attention. I swallowed against the rising nausea and glanced around the room. The green fire that torched my bed had disappeared and the room lay bathed in the sweet-smelling rays of morning sunlight. The sight calmed me enough to wonder had that been a warning of things to come? A portent of some evil the hedge mage planned? Now was not the time to react with magic or reveal my trepidation. No, I would calmly wait this out.

A servant brought a tray and quickly departed. My grumbling stomach couldn't ignore the food, so I took a meat pastie, a cup of fresh milk and set myself to listen. What would Dorian have thought about my vision? Was it a vision? A product of my imagination or a portent of evil to come. I sensed no additional trouble rumbling from the world that lingered outside of ours, although habit kept my eyes on the corners of the room for the sudden appearance of a rift. Some habits die hard for a reason.

We spoke of trivial things, of events past and the state of the Inquisition. Imagine Solas discussing the weather if you can. Although I gave him every opening to broach his news or whatever it was he continued to bring up inconsequential things until, with a frown creasing his features, Cullen excused himself for a meeting. Solas followed him from the room ignoring my call for him to stay. The oddness of the morning continued when I noticed my staff laying innocently on the stones by the windows.

I reached for it and felt heat crawl into my hand and up my arm. Before I cast it down, I noticed something carved into the wood. Curiosity, which would no doubt kill me someday, kept my hands on the staff and squinting at the carving. Finally, I moved toward the windows to capture the light. There, carved into the shaft and still smoking from the fetid fire of its creation was one word.

_Fen'harel._


	23. I Must Not Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fear is the mind-killer.  
> Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.  
> I will face my fear.  
> I will permit it to pass over me and through me.  
> And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.  
> Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.  
> Only I will remain."  
> Frank Herbert, Dune

**Dorian**

A roaring fire sent waves of heat into a room already thick with the scent sweat, perfume and sour ale. This had been a mistake. I pushed my untasted wine away and glanced toward the direction of escape. After weeks of sitting in my mother's garden wondering how I could have been so wrong about Circe, my loneliness had driven me to this tavern. No matter how hard I peered into corners I cannot locate The Bull. He'd be arguing with Crem and balancing several beers in his hands there's Varric keeping a steady pace of beer to our table. His stories more outlandish with each round. Over there, Commander Cullen would hover for a few minutes then excuse himself.

I will myself to keep the vision of Circe's laughter, her smiles and blushes as The Bull teases her away from my musings. I know Cullen fancies himself in love with her but she outwitted us all by leaving Skyhold. She packed, strapped her two best staffs to her back, mounted her favorite horse and rode away, from me, from her role as Inquisitor and from the group of soldiers who followed her from the Winter Palace to Skyhold and back again.

The exit was blocked by a group of giggling boasting nobles out for a night on the town. I rested my head against my hands. Well away from the better parts of Minrathous, I'm confident my mother would express an appropriate level of horror at the company I chose to keep tonight. She hadn't finished being horrified at my participation in the Inquisition...had I really fought alongside a Qunarai mercenary and a gang of thugs? A rather dodgy bunch of ruffians she had said waving the fragile lace of an Orlesian handkerchief in the air.

A pair of ill-fitting boots appeared in my line of vision. “Sir?” Then he lowered his voice. “I've a message for Dorian Pavus. You be him, sir?”

“Aye,” I said raising my head. And I took the note from his grimy hand and replaced it with a gold coin.

“Why, thank you, sir.” The young man exclaimed and ran off.

The parchment yielded to my fingers, but I had to hold it up to the candlelight to read the careless pen strokes. Then my heart stopped beating, and my lungs refused to draw a breath. The letterhead was Skyhold and the letters although hastily written could only be Circe's...Circe...Andraste, not this again. When will you choose to leave me to my misery?

_Dorian_

_At Commander Cullen's request, I returned to Skyhold to assist him with the sudden appearance of Solas. By the time you receive this note, several weeks may have gone by, and that's time I do not have._

_He is evil. He believes he is Fen'harel and with his increased power he plans to shatter the Vale and set all the Elves free. Andraste's wisdom, guide me, but I believe he is quite mad. His eyes glow, not with the gentle wisdom of the elf we once knew but with the glow of a feral animal of the most profound night._

_I know things did not end well between us. I will seek your forgiveness if you'll give it when we have time._

_My simple request and the outlandish story isn't enough to bring you back to Skyhold. You are the most powerful_ mage _I know, Dorian. I wouldn't dally with your life in this way if I weren't serious. Please come, my friend. Hurry._

_Circe_

  
She needed me.

With her note clutched in my hand, I called for my horse and left Mintraothous without a change of clothes or a word to my parents.

I shall not bore you with my mad journey to Skyhold. Exhausted and filthy with road dust I carreened my poor tired horse into the stableyard. Only the quick-witted assistance from a groom kept me from landing on my hands and knees when I slid off my horse. My head a jumble of tired disconnected thoughts it was my feet that found the hall leading to Circe's old quarters.

The main hall narrowed and tunneled into the horizon so although I ran the distance to the entrance to the Inquisitor's rooms seemed endless. I couldn't pause to examine if it were magic or just my desperation to get to Circe. I flung open the doors to her chamber to find a group of old men, healers by the look of their robes. And on a small tray beside the bed, I saw oddly curved knives and a kidney-shaped dish. Inside the dish...Vomit splashed into my throat. My Circe. They'd bled her.

_Fucking barbarians._

My rage knew no quarter until against the mullioned windows of her old quarters my eyes found Circe pacing the room as if looking for an escape. Like a trapped animal. The balcony just feet away from her. She paced and circled...looking for an opening.

Cullen stood as if on guard with Cassandra on the other side. Were they guarding her? Circe screamed, and the vague green fire that simmered in the air flared to life. It wasn't just her hand...Andraste's light! Her entire arm burned with it. What had happened?

Cullen managed to catch her when Cassandra distracted her. Circe's scream swirled around the room and echoed across the mountains. With Cullen on one side of her, one of the castle guards took her by the other arm and dragged her toward the bed. He answered my silent questions while he tried to cajole her into lying down. The sheets on her bed were pulled back and then I saw other things I had not noticed at first glance. Ropes to tie her down, a small saw, a clamp, scissors, thread, and needles.

“Come Circe. Please,” he pleaded. I could see from my place at the top of the stairs that she was too far gone to hear him. “You'll die if we don't stop this. My lady, we're only trying to help you. Please.”

The fire leaps from her arm, and she fell to her knees trying and failing to hold back the cry of anguish. This time Cullen picked her up and held her imprisoned against him. How long had this madness been going on, I wondered my thoughts scattered when I realized how close I'd come to being too late to stop this barbarism. With Circe gone, they'd gone back to distrusting mages. Even a mage who could heal her...or at least try. When I noticed Cassandra slip around to catch her again. I stepped into the room.

“Lady Trevelyan, it's Dorian. I received your note and got here as soon as I could. How fairs my lady?”

Her head shot up at the sound of my voice. She appeared half mad with pain. Her hair hung in lank streaks of dull black. She'd lost weight. As she stood there swaying between Cullen and Cassandra her eyes found me. The little girl sound of her voice broke my heart and stirred me to action.

“Dorian? Are you here? You're really here?”

“If you do not trust the world around you, trust this, Circe. I am here, and I will set this to rights.”

“It's Solas' doing,” she hissed as if no one could hear. “Solas. He's the wolf. He intends to open the Vale to save the elves. I tried to stop him. I tried. My hand...the anchor...it's beyond what I can control.”

She stuffed her knuckle's into her mouth like a child and whimpered. “They want to cut my arm off, Dorian. I can't let them. Please, Dorian. Please."

Cullen stood mute, and the moment his hands fell from her shoulders she bolted to me. I caught her mid-flight and wrapped her in my arms.

“It's Solas. I tried to close the rifts...So many. But it was too much...too much.”

After I set Circe down on the settee, I turned on the savage brutes huddled together by the bed. They cringed at my manner toward them and well they might. “Commander Cullen. I will say this just once. Take these plague doctors and leave us.”

One of the braver doctors stepped up, “Lord Pavus. The lady is choleric. The only way to bring balance to the humours is to bleed her. You can see for yourself that she is burning with fire. My colleagues created a poultice to draw out the yellow bile. We are learned men and summoned by direct invitation of Commander Cullen. How dare you stand in the way of modern medicine?”

My rage at this show of incompetence stripped me of all common sense. My vision narrowed to Circe staring at the flame that traveled up her arm at increasing speed, I grabbed the tray of bloodletting tools, poison poultices and tossed them over the edge of the balcony.

“That is what I think of you! Now, get out!” Their bravado disappeared, and as insects frightened of the light, they scuttled for the door. Then Cullen rounded on me, and I hit him with a closed fist. “Get out,” I thundered.

“Your name and title have no meaning here, Lord Pavus.”

Circe's voice rose over the sound of Cullen's empty threats. “They intend to cut my arm off. Don't let them. If you ever loved me don't let them. I studied...Solas he's bluffing...he isn't the Wolf he is what he always was nothing but a hedge mage with his head and heart in the Fade.”

The anchor flared again, and she screamed and traveled up her arm again. This will consume her. When we're finally alone, I knelt at her feet. She clung to me while I smoothed the hair back from her face.

“I need you, Dorian.”

I was aware of her lips on my jaw then cheek, then my mouth.

“Be with me,” she begged with tear filled eyes. “Damn my weakness. I'm so tired...I tried to stand up to him. Kept opening Rifts...the anchor...it burns...I'm sorry. But I understand now...what needs to be done. It is Andraste's light that will snuff Solas' sick cravings.”

Be with me? While I pondered the meaning of her words, she carded her fingers into my hair and dragged my mouth to hers.

I'd thought so often of this moment of concession. Our first kiss held nothing of this need. This burning that must quenched or consume her. But this was more than that. My Circe was terrified. Scared of a hedge mage? This would end today. Circe bit down on my lower lip drawing my attention back to this incredible moment of her demanding kisses.

Kissing a man is a competition. Often a show of male dominance and the promise of what comes next. There is no romance in the kiss of two men who desire nothing more than from each other than the release of sex. Circe kissed me with her full attention with her mouth sucking my lower lip and her nose scrubbing across my mustache.

“We can beat him...It's a power he doesn't understand...Match your mana to mine. Join with me.” Her clever insistent fingers tugged my at my traveling cloak open.

“Circe, wait. I'm filthy from the road.” Because I would think of grooming at a time like this. Yes?

She ignored me and pulled the jacket away. My jerkin and shirt went next until Circe let go of me long enough to rip her gown over her head. Clad only in her small clothes and chest heaving she gripped my shoulders. “You loved me once. Love me now. Together we can banish the gluttony of this evil malaise.”

Then I understood. Her mana glittered in her eyes and heated her skin. My own virility answered and rose boiling my blood and heightening my senses. I would protect Circe. She'd always been a good friend. The power of her left arm was many times more powerful than the small anchor that fit in her palm so long ago. In her eyes and the strength of her grip, I also knew her fear.

“Don't be afraid. I am here. I will protect you.” And I saw what Solas had tried. My Circe fought him. She fought him to the limits of her endurance and the pressures of Cullen and those mad doctors.

Circe grabbed my upper arms in a grip that twisted the skin. From both hands, the green fire burst forth shrouding us and igniting lust and need from the aching loneliness I'd known since leaving her. When our mana blended, I found that my body answered, hardened and readied itself for coupling. It came from the pulse of her heart pounding against my bare chest and adding its heat to my blood.

“Circe, stop. Wait.”

Circe's hair wild and unbound tumbled over my hands. She was having none of it. Her head came up tossing her midnight hair back from her face. “I need your help...we can beat him.”

Thoughts of my jaded useless life paled in shame at the insistent need to join with her. With a desperate plea for a sanity that would never come. Not now. I pulled her small clothes away. Beyond reason, I lifted her in my arms, and her legs wrapped naturally around my hips. Then I knew a curious and strange thing...my cock responded to her heat as if to guide me home.

I sat her on the desk and with one hand pulled her mouth to mine. Circe bit my lip and all control stripped away. She needed me. With no time to know if she were ready, I pushed inside and there to meet me was the magic heat of her. This was not the same as a man's mouth or taking control by entering his backside. My seed would fall on fertile ground this night. The results of an orgasm I usually discounted now had meaning. This was hers. It was for her and no one else. I would never waste this gift again.

We would fight Solas. Together we were unbeatable. Her eyes flickered with the fear. “No, Circe. Do not falter. I have you. I love you. Won't let you go.”

I shifted her, so she was comfortable on the table. With her face framed in my hands, I held her eyes while I pushed deeper. “Don't be frightened. It's only me." Again her mana flared when I leaned over her flushed body to kiss her. The power of it set fire to our kiss and the place of our joining.

The great Dorian Pavus brought down by a woman, I thought and distantly heard Solas scream in anger.

This was her power. This was the Spirit of Andraste. This was my woman calling to me, daring me to join my power with hers in the ancient way of men and women.

Solas was in the room hovering near the windows a sneer dividing his face into a mask of rage. I stopped hesitating and unleashed my mana and drove myself into Circe's body. Over Circe's shoulder, I saw Solas cringe.

I lifted Circe from the desk and pushed her against the wall. Closer! I had to get closer to her. With the purchase from the wall and her legs wrapped around my waist, I'm buried. She released me and fell back against the wall...no, Circe come back. The anchor in her hand flared singing us both and consumed the frail flesh of our earthly forms.

The magic pulsed hot blood into my cock and I surged forward pressing deeply into her. There seemed no end to us...to the duality of man and woman. At this moment we cleaved as one.

Her breasts bounced with the rhythm of our coupling. I bent my head and touched my lips to capture a rose-tinted nipple... opened my mouth to take in the wonder of soft skin and primal need. She cried out with her hands in my hair pushing me against her chest and moving her hips.

“More Dorian...please...more...”

Solas' angry shout held the sound of fear. I forced the sound away and pulled her breast into my mouth and suckled. Circe arched against me, and I caught her in my arms and continued to suckle her soft breasts...breasts that would one day feed our children. Ancient need clamored for me to fill her with my seed. I groaned against the power but didn't pull away. How could I?

Something built within her. That mystery...that something for which I had no name hardened her nipples against my tongue and pulled at my cock with the promise of release for a treasure as yet unknown to me.

Circe screamed shouting my name while her mana flowed with mine until they ran together like a sunrise yielding to the day until the dark forest green of my magic blended with the sky blue of hers until we settled into the blue-green peace of perfect affinity.

She wasn't through with me yet.

Solas is writhing on the stone floor his mana a dark red the color of old blood.

Circe bit down on my shoulder and to my surprise jerked my body forward with her legs. It was time. I knew it. I felt it. My Circe, take what I give you and make your woman's magic with it.

I fisted her dark hair in my hands and let myself yield to her feminine power. Her body pulled at me demanding its due. The gift that only I, a simple mortal man could give her.

Soft and sweet I floated within my Circe's body until something crackled to life and flowed down my spine spilling itself into my loins like icy fire. Stretched out against the weight of my arms, Circe opened her eyes. I hardly knew what to do or say. I was out of control, and that never happened, but the magic we created by our joining left Solas crumpled on the stones bleeding from his nose and ears. Until gradually he turned paper thin and the dried husk of his remains drifted off the balcony and into the crevasse below.

Circe rested quietly against me, and I stilled myself to allow her to remain. In the face of my usual sexual partners, I might say this experience was inadequate. Afterall, Circe knew nothing of how to please a man. I'd never dreamed of a situation where the coupling of men and women was power and capable of creating change. What, after all, is more fundamental, or primal than this? More primal indeed. For the first time in my life, my seed touched fertile ground, and I find myself humbled.

She mentioned a little boy with green eyes, or I wondered as I held her in my arms a girl with blue eyes and hair the color of a midnight sky. The very thought of such a moment sent love blooming in my chest. Was this love? This endless tug and push of my relationship with Circe? Never having known it, I may be excused for not recognizing it.

“Dorian?”

A simple question with a thousand answers. I tried to keep my eyes open as I knew she wanted, but I felt my body dying, and in moments I would be drained of life and left and helpless in a woman's arms.

Circe dug her nails into my arms and pleaded with every strained muscle in her body.

“I love you I love you I love you...” I sang against her neck. The moment, when it came, took my breath away. My release came like a lightning strike, and I cried out feeling my eyes roll back in my head as my feet gripped the floor and my hands held my woman. My seed poured into Circe's womb while spasms of pain-tinged joy raced over my body. She collapsed against me, and we stood with her legs around my waist and her back against the stone wall.

“Circe?” I whispered into her hair. Thinking we were about to make a mess on the floor I carefully pulled out and carried her to the bed and stretched out alongside her.

“He's gone.” My Circe said into the silence of the room and pulled me down to her.

I held my breath. Will she flee from my embrace again? As the moments drew out and her silence continued I realized this meant nothing to her. I realized by the cooling of her flesh and the slow rhythm of her heart against my ribs. Had she changed so much? Was this surrender, and I knew that it was a surrender, the momentary fear in her eyes told me of her virgin status. Hadn't I always imagined being her first? And now I had, but what if there were a child. No, I corrected myself this was, but a means to an end to defeat Solas' insane scheme.

Circe slept on while I gently cleaned her. Then I took the time to wash the road from my body and lay down beside her. When sleep finally claimed me I slept dreamlessly with my body curled around hers. Later I was aware she rose and perhaps to use the chamber pot I watched her approach to the bed naked hair free from its tidy braid. I see the dark purple mark of a bruise on her left breast.

She pulled a robe over her nakedness, and I take that as my cue to absent myself from her presence.

“Dorian, wait. Forgive my ignorance, but things we said to each other last night during...were they true or words used in the heat of the moment?”

Arrogant, selfish, overbred snob I might be but this hurt like a dagger...worse like the careless words of an adult who should know better by now. But if she were not the same woman I knew then I had changed too.

I dressed before I answered her, my voice surprisingly steady. “I do not care if every word you whispered to me was a lie, Circe. Those words are all I will ever have of you. Yes? I know that now...finally. I'll leave Skyhold within the hour. Then I stopped and called from the stairs. “Thank you for coming to me for help.”

_And what if there is a child, you stupid nug-headed fool?_

* * *

Plague Doctors (Wikipedia) A plague doctor was a medical physician who treated victims of the plague. They were specifically hired by towns that had many plague victims in times of epidemics. Since the city was paying their salary, they treated everyone: both the wealthy and the poor. However, some plague doctors were known for charging patients and their families extra for special treatments and/or false cures. They were not normally professionally trained experienced physicians or surgeons, and often were second-rate doctors unable to otherwise run a successful medical business or young physicians trying to establish themselves. These doctors rarely cured their patients; rather, they got a count of the number of people contaminated for demographic purposes.


	24. The Heart of Lilith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning to steal two lines from a famous novel. Snaps and a night with Dorian complete with time to peel the leather off that hot body if you can name the book.

* * *

“I am she who cries out,  
And I am cast forth upon the face of the earth  
I prepare the bread and my mind within  
I am called truth”

“I am the one who alone exists,  
And there is no one to judge me.  
For though there is much sweetness  
in passionate life, in transient pleasure,  
finally soberness comes  
and people flee to their place of rest.  
There they will find me,  
and live, and not die again”

Lilith of women's power and own mortality.  
Passages from the Ghe Gnostic Nag Hammadi (2nd-4th CE)

* * *

 

**Circe**

The violence of Solas' attack dissipated, and as my mana cooled I became aware of the primal sensations lingering in the aftermath. My skin tingled, and the taste Dorian's kisses stayed on my lips. My body reacted to the silk fabric sliding over my bare skin with a shiver that sent me yearning for his touch. Deep inside, in a place, I'd never known my body still throbbed.

As I watched Dorian dress and head for the stairs, the yearning increased. I wanted his hands on me again. I needed to touch him, trace a path over his broad shoulders and flat stomach. The need for him to enter me again, to fill me to bursting left me trembling. I had known something of a woman's power, of course. One learns this over the years. But I had not yet experienced this carnal driving need to join, grasp and seek. There were things I still did not know about men. Oh, yes Dorian had fucked me, (When had that word entered my vocabulary?) of that I had no doubt. But the lustful thoughts of my virginal mind I still wondered had we made love?

I checked my girlish thoughts. Love had nothing to do with why I asked him to help me vanquish Solas. We were not lovers, we never had been and...my heart sank. We never will be. No, I will let him go. I also realized, as I watched him lace up his boots, that a woman who risked loving a man as complicated as Dorian Pavus could not fear asking for what she wanted.

“Dorian?”

He stopped at the top of the stairs but did not look my way.

“The sun hasn't risen are you intent on leaving so early? Can you wait, until dawn, at least?”

“Do not torment me further, Lady Trevelyan. I did what you asked of me. I am humbled by the experience if that is what you need to hear. I am a powerful mage from a high ranking family, but you stripped me down to the man who has no more defenses. I cannot survive another...never mind. Lady Trevelyan, last night...you were everything I always imagined. And you can be sure you are the only woman I'd imagined taking to my bed.”

“I think it was I who took you to my bed.”

“Circe. I cannot play these games with you. Not again. Farewell.”

“And do you think that you are the only one who was transformed by the experience?”

“I was there. Remember? I watched your face as I entered you. So different from...Succumbed to the strength of your embrace. Felt the warm pulse of your womb...as you accepted...as you took...Kaffas! Leave it be, woman! Leave it be.”

He stood with his hands gripping the stone rail of the staircase. How many times had we stood just like this, on the brink of something? Months navigating each other's foibles. Flirting with no thought to the outcome. He courted me at the Winter Palace. Presented me with jewels because he thought I deserved them. The tenderness of his embrace before Bull's interruption.

_Please don't leave. Then do something, you foolish girl. Do something._

Footsteps beat a quick tattoo on the stairs.

_He is running from you. Do something. Last night I felt powerful. Filled with Andraste's light and ready to meet him face to face and flesh against naked flesh._

“If there is a child. Do you wish me to contact you?” I called out surprised at how my voice didn't break.

Nothing.

My heart shattered at that moment, and I could not tell you how it might ever heal. For all the missed chances and silly quarrels. How could we get this so wrong when we'd admitted the depth of our feelings many times, in the heat of battle, surrounded by the light of a thousand candles at the Winter Palace, and here in this room?

He's gone, I thought. Then I picked up the heavy velvet back and poured the contents into my hand. Tears splashed on the precious stones blurring my vision. I didn't need to see them know what I held because hadn't I gazed at them a hundred times? Watched them glow as the warmth from my hands ignited their inner fire.

The room and the memories oppressed me. We'd killed Solas here, not twelve hours ago. Murdered the gentle hedge mage...Why was I still here? In this room? It doesn't matter where I go. I must leave this place behind. All of it.

_Move, you silly heartsick girl._

I stood and ran straight into the arms of Dorian Pavus. His fingers bit into my shoulders, and he gave me a little shake. Although tears glittered on his lashes, he was angry.

“Where did you get those?” He demanded with a savage edge to his voice. Then gave me another shake to punctuate his question.

“Can there never be a clear path between us? A place of honesty between two people who already declared their love?” By the look on his face, the answer was no. “I found the ring on a table in the small dining room you prepared for us. The amulet is obviously yours. You sold it at a shop in the Winter Palace. A week later a peddler came to Skyhold and offered it back to me.”

“How much did you pay...?”

I turned my face away from the fury knotting his brow. “What does it matter? Consider it payment for services rendered.”

“Circe. I never wanted to owe...”

I shook his hands off and allowed anger to wash away my childish tears. “Oh, shut up, Dorian. You saved my life yesterday! Isn't that enough? It won't ever be enough, will it? I know that now. There, now we are on the same page. Perfect. Now, go.”

His touch light and gentle, almost a caress, Dorian removed the jewels from my hands. The amulet he tucked inside his pocket. The ring he kept in his hand and turned it in his fingers watching it catch the light.

Please don't do this, Dorian.

“Circe, please listen to me. I enjoyed making love to you yesterday. Perhaps we could try it again? Preferably without destroying a mage in the process. Yes? Before we do try it again, one thing must change between us.”

“Dor...”

“Let me finish. Do not think this an easy thing for me. It's taken a year of Cole's scolding and prayers for me to finally understand that what you feel for me is unconditional and unyielding. The night at the Winter Palace. That morning of our tea and strawberries kiss. There is no one who fits so well at my side and I will never expect anyone else to fill that role. I shall never search for them, at any rate.”

Dorian kissed the knuckles of my left hand tickling me with his mustache.

“If you would consent to become my wife, Circe I promise you a lifetime of devotion from a sometimes arrogant, but always stubborn mage. And I shall do one thing in this life—one thing certain—that is, love you, and long for you, and keep wanting you till I die. Tevinter will not be an easy place to make our home, but I know if we stay together we can overcome any obstacle.”

I relaxed my hand, and he wasted no time in slipping the heavy ring on my finger. A beautiful ring that I would wear all my life proudly. The stones matched the rubies in the Pavus amulet. Soon I would become a member of the Pavus family, and live under the strain of endless political intrigue. Face his parents and society's judgment. Hadn't I experienced enough practice this last year to face anything Tevinter through my way? The answer was yes.

At last, Dorian and I found a place to be together. And I would create a peaceful home for him, and our children will be raised with love and acceptance for whatever their heart's desire might become.

“I accept your proposal with a happy heart, Dorian. There is one promise I must have now.”

“Anything, my Circe.”

“That at home by the fire, whenever I look up, there you will be. And whenever you look up, there I shall be.”


	25. Dorian's Deepest Fears

* * *

"Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free." ― Jim Morrison

* * *

**Dorian**

I pulled her into my arms and thought, I can keep that promise. Of all the promises I shall make to her...and probably break. I can keep that one. Because the thought of never seeing her again, or watching those bright blue eyes of hers pin me to her heart is more than I could endure. What if, through my arrogant bumblings I couldn't touch her again, as I am now? It's intolerable and not just to my heart, but my very soul.

_Would you just listen to me?_

"I promise," I said. "I didn't realize until this moment, Circe." A smile lifted my mouth, and I wondered when the last time I felt like smiling. I wanted to weep at the sensation of the weight lifting from my shoulders. The burden of stone, my father, placed on my back the first time I stood against his scheming fell away. With my forehead pressed to hers, I murmured perhaps the truest words I have ever said.

"It is you, my Circe. You who stops the screaming."

Circe went limp in my arms and dropped her head against my shoulder, and I knew, finally, that we were sure of each other.

~o0o~

The ride to Minrathous was rainy and cold. The weather seemed bent on reminding us about the days we rode over the countryside closing rifts, killing anyone who got in our way and escaping any number of horrific deaths. As if we could forget. Hesitant and anxious—perhaps those were only my feelings. I was after all bringing the bride my parents had given up meeting to their home. As for Circe, she sat tall in the saddle as if completely sure of herself. We spoke little and dropped to our bedrolls only when it was too dark to ride. Just to rise at first light and continue. The nights were not entirely bad, however. Circe and I kept good company together. No matter how cold, tired or hungry for food more appealing than field rations, we were together with a future ahead of us.

Our fourth night on the road Fall finally gave way to Winter, and with the setting sun, the darkening air turned bitter cold. Snow flurries scrapped against the tent and our meager fire did nothing to hold back the chill. We ate a little and drank but a sip of wine each. After we unwound our outer garments and hung them to dry, we slid into our bedrolls. While Circe shivered beside me and tried to find sleep, I watched the sagging line of our coats and scarves and allowed my thoughts to wander home. Home, where I knew a brass tub awaited me. And servants. Servants enough to carry the buckets of water up three flights of stairs quickly enough that when I sank beneath the surface the water was still hot. If the weather would cooperate, we might reach Minrathous by nightfall two days hence.

I fell asleep musing of hot biscuits, fresh jam, strong tea and good whiskey when Circe curled against me. Her sudden action startled me enough to make me sit straight up and glare at her. Her proper place was on the other side of the fire where I could watch her during the night. Then I remembered that things had changed and I no longer had to keep her at arm's length. She watched me quietly while I thought all this through and listened to the night sounds outside our tent. Only the frogs in nearby the nearby pond, the screech of an owl and the whistle of the wind through the surrounding evergreens.

What I did not hear was Iron Bull's snoring or Sera's latest attempt at seducing Cassandra. Sera would finally give up, but instead of going to sleep she pleasured herself, and we were all treated to the sounds of Sera's frustrated attempts at self-gratification. A class act that freaky little elf, damn good with a bow, but freaky none-the-less.

"Come here," I said cleverly ignoring the look of hesitation my behavior put in her eyes and tucked her against me.

"Dorian? I don't want things to change for us. I always enjoyed the teasing." She smiled up at me and kissed my cheek as if this were the conversation we'd been having all evening. "And the fighting," she included quickly.

Yes, to the teasing, I thought as I followed her down to the bedroll. The kiss deepened as my Circe explored this new world of physical affection between men and women. As new a world to me, as well. I opened her shirt and freed her breasts by pulling the band away. Andraste confound me, but I hungered for the taste of her sweet skin...a woman's breasts. Who'd of thought?

A few minutes of kisses left me rubbing my aching cock against her hip. I hadn't meant to impose myself... Now what? I could step outside... She turned toward me. What was she doing? Her deft mage's fingers opened my pants. I should stop her. She doesn't have to do...maybe someday, but not...I groaned with relief when she released me from the tight leather.

"Circe..."

A cold slide of fingers cupped my balls. Her hands are cold. They would soon warm, I thought while she scooted closer to me again. Or so I thought. The fingers cupping my balls and the thumb stroking the base of my cock warmed not with the heating of blood, but of a spell. I'm held captive by this slip of a girl who's practicing her magic on me. I know because the frosty blue shimmer of her mana dances across her bare skin. I follow the path with my eyes to the place where her fingers grasp me, wrapping themselves around the aching hardness between my legs. The heat of her fingers melting my blood and flesh.

She bit my lip as if I weren't paying attention. Andraste save me. I was paying attention.

"I've been thinking about this all day," she said as if we were discussing a new spell.

"You don't have to..." I stuttered like a schoolboy.

"I want to." She laughed nervously. "I don't know what I'm doing...so you'll let me know if I hurt you."

"Hurt me?" _Fuck, yes. Hurt me. Give it a try. I am yours._ I tipped her against me to let her head rest on my arm and crushed her hair in my fists.

Fingers hotter than the blood coursing through my veins flayed me and each stroke grew bolder. I wouldn't last long. Suddenly cool fingers twisted over the crown gathering the slick evidence of my desire only to sweep down again stopping my orgasm like the rushing water of a river blocked with a dam. As she pulled, I began to thrust into her hand begging for the heat of friction. Instead, she's teasing me again with her icy fingers.

"Come here, my little desire demon," I said and flipped her over, dragging her leather riding pants down over her hips. Although I wanted nothing more than to bury myself in her heat, I remembered something. So before I gave in to my need to fuck, my fingers searched for the small nub of flesh I'd once heard about. Wasn't difficult to find and I guess that surprised me because women are so bloody hidden. But her reaction lets me know I'd gotten it right. Each time she pushed against my hand I let my fingers slid inside the warm velvet of her body. Days ago our coupling had been about violence and death. Tonight with the night surrounding us, hiding us from those who might judge.

With her head thrown back, I pulled a soft breast into my mouth and sucked hard at the nipple. She nearly screamed when I bit down. With my hand between her legs, she rode my fingers—teaching me—how to please her. How greedy her need and how eager I am to please her. And I realized while I teased her breasts unmercifully that this night didn't have to end. There was no heading out into a lonely cold dawn from an equally cold bed. This was a passion that will grow over the years and someday bear fruit.

I felt tears burn, and all I could do was bury my face in her hair. She was a vision in my arms, straining and yielding. In a few seconds, her legs clenched my hand. Days of riding and walking across open country enabled the strength of her legs to grip me hard enough to keep my hand where she wanted...needed. The thought of her long legs wrapped around my waist almost undid the control that held me on a knife's edge of need. When I felt her entire body tighten I pulled back and watched her breasts flush and the nipples hardened. In a perfect arch her body held itself in that terrible moment of the little death, or petit mal, as some call it on the crest of her orgasm she cried out my name

To hear my name on her lips turned my world upside down. That she was thinking of me sent me into a paroxysm of lust. In the throes of her ecstasy, I took myself in hand and pushed inside her. If I thought this moment of passion was different from the night we silenced Solas, I had underestimated its effect on me. The heat and liquid passion that bathed my fingers a few minutes ago, took on new meaning when she took me into her body.

My Circe held me tenderly, yet, I believe the softness of virgin passion had left us with the need to push against each other, while I drove myself into her and marked her as my own. Then as naturally as if we'd known our passion for years, instead of days, she tilted her hips and wrapped her legs around my waist.

Now I'm a madman, lost in her, needing her to take what I offer and hold it within, as she holds me now.

I cannot convey in words how different this is from sex with a man. How a man's mouth fails to create this natural link between man and woman. I swear that all my adult life, my thoughts of creating Pavus offspring involved thwarting my father's wishes by bedding only men. Then Circe wrapped her arms around my neck and sought my lips. While our kiss grew in fervor, I shifted my weight so I could pull Circe off the pallet and up to straddle my thighs.

**Circe**

The small fire we built cast shadows of orange and red across the tent walls. The wind sang through the evergreens and the night animals serenaded our night with passion. Poised on the brink of insanity, Dorian lifted from the furs and set me astride. He drew the moment out by letting me slip down his body while he spread kisses sending a new wave of sensations through my overstimulated body. If I tried to push away, he held me tighter, if I hesitated with doubt or shyness he kissed me until I keened out my need for him.

I wanted this to last forever, precisely like this, sure of ourselves and nothing between us. To see Dorian in such a state with his hair tumbled over his brow and his eyes stormy with passion sent me reeling. But he never let go of me and kept me wrapped in his arms while we rocked together. Truthfully, I believe we held on to each other. Grounding ourselves to withstand these new feelings and the waves of love and ecstasy flowing over and around us.

Even in my naivete, I felt Dorian's body narrow to the point of our joining. His fingers dug into my back and his eyes closed. No, I thought as I took his face in my hands and forced him to look into my eyes. I need to see you and share this with you. When his orgasm struck he shook my hands away and buried his face in my breasts. If eyes were glassy, then so were mine. My body reacted to his orgasm with the thrum of nature beating a pulse of muscle and sinew to accept his gift.

When the storm passed, Dorian gently laid me down no the furs. I watched him quietly locate a cloth and water. Then he carefully washed me and covered me with a blanket. Still, without speaking he washed...then stopped as if he had something to say.

"Dorian?"

I rose from my bed and pushed the hair from his eyes. He caught my hand to stop me and I paused...held my breath. Not again, I thought. The hand that held mine trembled and look I'd never seen before passed through his eyes. Then he took my hand and kissed it.

"You've quite undone me, my dear. Unusual to say the least. Humbled is not word a Pavus uses. I have no idea how to handle this avalanche of emotion. So I shall endeavor to be brave and stay the course. But I warn you, My Circe. This journey of discovery will most likely take the rest of our lives. Will you...I mean can you tolerate the tedium?"

"All I can do is try," I said with a teasing smile and wrapped myself in his arms to sleep.


	26. The Honor of Your Presence

 

* * *

"By all means, marry. If you get a good wife, you'll become happy; if you get a bad one, you'll become a philosopher." ꟷSocrates

* * *

**Approximately three months after Lady Circe experienced that enjoyable and satisfying evening in the wilderness with Dorian's Mage's Staff...**

It's almost midnight in the Tevinter city of Minrathous. In a few moments the bells will ring—truthfully, the magic that secured the ancient brass bells wore off a decade or two ago, so they will only ring if anyone had gotten around to fix them and that hadn't happened—to confirm the time. Across the sleepy city lights extinguish as fashionable parties break up and young ladies are escorted home under the watchful eye of their fathers and governesses. One by one, the elegant townhouses darken, until the only sounds are a few carriages creaking along the rough-cobblestone streets and the horses—intent on their warm beds quicken their stride. Exhausted slaves pause to take a breath and dared hope the evening will end and they can tumble into their meager beds.

Not all the residents are intent on getting home, for midnight is the traditional time when the fun begins. While most of the population is tucked in their beds, in an old part of the city...the dodgy part. On a narrow street stands a tavern overshadowed by shabby and abandoned buildings. The tall buildings neglected for a generation cast shadow bizarre shadows over the dirty street. The name and location are secret, but the tavern is clean, the food is edible, the wine and beer decent and the rooms private.

The night is full of miasma from careless magic vandalizing the surrounding area. The sounds of bottles breaking, stinking fires and careless laughter echoed down the narrow streets where the sun rarely found its way. Popular with the toffs and dandies of Minrathous, among the varied clientele are the sons from wealthy families. They come here for privacy, to drink, game and whore. They stand at the bar and brag to each other that their father can go straight to hell, then take a furtive look around to make sure their mothers haven't suddenly appeared with her "Mothers Against Blood Magic" committee. They know their lives were planned out by their parents before they were born. But for tonight they can brag, drink too much and fuck whom they please.

Moving discreetly among the crowd is a small group of achingly handsome young men, who make themselves available to clientele searching for a different sort of experience. Fulfill a fantasy, something or that will lift them out of their narrow lives and for a few expensive moments make them feel special. These young men grow wealthy on their earnings, although the amount is a closely guarded secret. Courted and sought after they are skilled at playing whatever game their customers wishes. They must earn quickly though, for their lives are harsh and once the glow of youth fades they are no longer in vogue.

It is the youngest boys with rosy cheeks, plump lips, round buttocks, and a certain virginal innocence that earn the attention of those who can afford them. The handsome, skilled boys are deflowered five nights out of seven. It's exhausting work and careers are short, but the rewards are great so they play their roles and dream about their futures. Playing the virgin is easy, no matter how many times they act out the scene. It's the other men, the brutish sadistic men, men who prefer the act of rape and pain who take their toll on the boys.

Shouts and laughter from the main room leak out the front door. An hour ago, news of their comrade, Dorian Pavus prompted a heated discussion when a square sheet of parchment covered in elegant script appeared. A third and fourth round of beer followed the bit of parchment around the room accompanied by cheers, booing, and groans of disappointment. Gossip about Dorian and his part in the Inquisition flowed as the gossip finally lost all sense of truth. There can't really be a dark-haired beauty on his arm, can there? The fact that she was the Inquisitor is completely disregarded because, well because the Inquisitor is a woman. Yet, bets are placed, glasses emptied, broken hearts hidden and tears discretely wiped away. The discussion continues well into the morning hours until the tavern keeper tries to move people toward the exit.

One of the nobleman, with sharp features, long curling hair and flowing robes, jumped on a central table and waited for the tavern customer's attention. Flourishing the crumpled beer-soaked parchment he shouted over the noise.

"You bunch of oafs are not giving this a proper post-mortem. Allow me?" When he had their attention, he cleared his throat. "Think upon the loss of our dearly departed Dorian Pavus and weep. Alas, dear friends! Our friend, the vanguard of our adventures, wicked magical ways, always good for a bit of coin and the handsomest bit of man-flesh this side of Orlais met his downfall."

Someone handed him a fresh cup of wine, he took a deep sip.

"MAGISTER HALWARD PAVUS AND HIS LADY WIFE, AQUINEA THALRASSIAN REQUEST THE HONOR OF YOUR PRESENCE TO THE UNION IN MARRIAGE OF THEIR SON DORIAN TO LADY CIRCE LORENA ALYCIA TREVELYAN OF OSTWICK. AT 5 O'CLOCK IN THE AFTERNOON ON THE TWELFTH DAY OF CASSUS, 9:30 DRAGON, IN THE GREAT HALL AT THE PAVUS COUNTRY ESTATE. RECEPTION AND FORMAL SUPPER TO FOLLOW THE CEREMONY. 

~FESTIVITIES TO CONTINUE THROUGHOUT THE WEEKEND~

SLAVES, VALETS, AND LADIES MAIDS AVAILABLE FOR YOUR PLEASURE AND CONVENIENCE."

The booing and weeping continued. The speculations went on until dawn when the tavern keeper finally, turned off the lamps and shooed everyone out of the building. Arm in arm the men headed down the empty streets to their fine homes and feather tick beds and speculated how Dorian could betray them so utterly.

~o0o~

**Dorian**

I had faced this scene every morning for the past two months. It scared me just as much now as that morning when Circe and arrived at the foot of the Imperial Highway. The towers of Minrathous stood silently silhouetted by the rising sun like dragons rising from the mist and terror shook my bones. Because, it's one thing to fall in love, save the world, face near-death and make friends with a Qunarai, but quite another to bring home the bride your parents had long ago despaired of ever meeting.

I straightened my tunic and ground my teeth together. Then I politely knocked and entered my Mother's sitting room. There they sat, as they had every morning for the last two months drinking their morning tea and chatting as if they were old friends.

_Bloody unsettling, is the truth of it._

When Circe noticed me she stopped talking and smiled at my mother's frown of disapproval (anyone who dared ignore my mother did so at their own peril.) Why was this so effortless for her? She'd charmed my father as if that ghastly episode at the Redcliff Inn had never happened. Circe and my Mother had their heads together at all hours, plotting, planning discussing dresses, food, guest lists and Andraste knows what else.

_What do women talk about? I haven't the faintest idea._

Then Circe poured a cup of tea, rose gracefully and crossed the room to put it in my hands. She's dressed in a morning gown of emerald silk, the sound of her hair is seductive as it slides unbound over the smooth fabric. The delicate china rattles on the saucer as the thought of opening her robe and burying my face in her breasts took my breath away. Alas, that can't happen until the wedding night. For now, Circe and I must play the part of virgin and gentleman fiance. We, of course, didn't bother correcting my mother when she announced to the supper table that I would soon stop Circe's charming blushes.

_Mother! I thought. Who would stop my blushes?_

I have so many images of my Circe in my memory, dirty and exhausted, triumphant, courageous, striding through the halls of Skyhold clad in leather breeches and jacket. This morning, the image of her in watered emerald silk, gliding across the marble floor adds a new memory and I'll admit weakens my knees. Circe winked at me when my mother's voice broke through my salacious thoughts.

"Dorian, stop staring at the girl as you if you intend to devour her. Now, be a good boy and come sit with us."

With the cup and saucer in one hand, I offered my right arm to Circe—Andraste forbid that this woman who saved the world might trip on a smooth floor or come to some danger between here and the fireplace—and guided her back to her chair.

I watched Circe smoothly resume her conversation with my mother and it finally occurred to me that Circe had been raised to move easily in society. This was natural to her. It was the Inquisition that required her to change and it was me who fought against it. Yet, hadn't I vowed to reenter Tevinter society and take up my birthright in the politics of my home country?

My father entered a moment later. Behind him, the servants with our breakfast tray. I watched him accept the cup of tea from Circe while he placed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand. Circe blushed prettily and the old man actually smiled.

_Maker take me._


	27. A Kiss to Build a Dream On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Without canon to guide me about Tevinter marriages I’ll just go with what we know. I can’t imagine Dorian tolerating a woman like Mother Giselle officiating at his wedding. So let’s just see how this goes.

 

* * *

“You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.” —Rhett Butler, _Gone With the Wind_

* * *

 

**Circe**

While the maids fussed with my hair, I turned my thoughts inward and remembered those early days of the Inquisition. The dark days, lite only by the green fire of evil. A pure kind of evil that questioned our faith and courage. The demons who sought to drag us into their world so they might destroy ours. Occasionally, usually on a morning when I woke for the day I have to remind myself it’s over. Reassure myself that those days are gone and the world was released from its grip. The people of Thedas are free to move on, plan a future and watch their children grow.

And that was how I ended up here in these sumptuously decorated rooms, no longer the Inquisition but a slightly nervous young woman of twenty-one preparing for her wedding. I’m a long way from the chilly drafty halls of Skyhold. News of our union stirred up a hornet’s nest between the ever hopeful dowagers, Dorian’s drinking buddies, the gossip mongers and the social set of Tevinter. In spite of the gossip Dorian and I are sure of each other and our wedding day is finally here. In a few minutes, I will join with Dorian Pavus in front of our parents, my siblings and the entire who’s who of Tevinter society in marriage.

Their endless dithering tore at my nerves. I can appreciate their anxiety, it wouldn’t do to get this wrong. I took a deep breath to let them know my hair was just fine and when I did I noticed the kirtle of my gown dug into my waist. I stood and approached the looking glass. The first fitting of my wedding gown turned into an argument about how much cleavage to reveal. I won the argument (Imagining what my mother and father might think of such a display.) Although the fine lawn of my chemise proved so light and flowing as to become transparent the kirtle covered me well enough. Yet, this morning, my chest pressed against the silk breast band and the mezereon or rose-purple silk of my kirtle felt tight and restrictive. The silver thread woven through my chemise itched.

Now Circe, I scolded myself. Cold feet won’t do. _Steady on._

Behind me, the two maids giggled when I smoothed my hands over the silk. I was on the verge of asking them to loosen the lacing when I saw one of them in the mirror cup her hands suggestively over her belly.

“What are you two chattering about,” I snapped and my stomach clenched in a wave of nausea that took me by surprise. What was this? A case of nerves? Me? They sobered quickly and their smiles faded.

“Begging your pardon, Lady Trevelyan. We was just sharing in your happiness. Meant no disrespect. Shall I loosen those laces for you?”

The maid saw to my comfort while I gazed around the room pretending to ignore her actions or that somehow I had put on weight. I decided to blame the endless days of excess and opulence with every comfort known to humans at my fingertips. There was a day when I could eat an apple, a slice of bread with jam or a mug of soup and be satisfied. Here in Tevinter, I learned to eat not just an apple, but at least three courses at every meal. No wonder my dress pressed uncomfortably against my sides.

I sank back down on the overstuffed bench at my dressing table. How many hours until this day ends? Round after round of parties given in our honor left me exhausted. Now, why do I grow impatient? Today, of all days. I should be the happiest woman in Thedas. If it hadn’t been for Dorian kidnapping me after luncheon, escape was out of the question. Stuck for hours at a table drinking pot after pot of tea and listening to women all discussing their own weddings and the details (Andraste, spare me!) of their wedding nights. Fortunately, they all thought it was so romantic when he spirited me away. Then hand-in-hand we’d race to the stables where horses waited. We’d ride until the sun disappeared then make our way slowly back to the house to dress for another party, or ball, or concert, or dinner. For all the stress of the wedding festivities, Dorian never failed to be the friend I always knew. I’ll admit that I wondered how much he might change when the Inquisition receded in the distance of our memories. He hadn’t changed at all, and I never noticed a hint of restlessness in him. Dorian made my dreams come true, and I will do all I can to give a reason for his continued happiness.

One of the maids tucked a cushion behind my back, reminding me that I was still in my rooms. My rooms. Dorian’s mother allowed me to chose the furnishings of my apartments. News which raised Dorian’s eyebrows until they disappeared into his hairline. Then he took me by the arm, took our leave of Lady Pavus and vanished to the roof. We didn’t laugh as I expected. Dorian was bewildered by his mother’s choice to allow me such freedom. He didn’t trust his parents, and I understood. Perhaps I would do well to remember all the reasons for his mistrust.

With an eye toward my sleeping chamber with its four poster bed and covered, no, smothered in cushions of brocade, lace and exquisite embroidery in colors of silver, green and blue silk my bed stood silently in the next room. The room I’m in now is my dressing room, complete with a fitting area—no Tevinter lady visits their dressmaker—The dressmaker must come to the lady, or she’s no lady…you know how it goes.

Another room just off this room behind an ornately carved oak door stood my bathing chamber. Dorian insisted on decorating that room himself, and when he flung open the door, I think I gasped. A porcelain tub, large enough for two to adults, inlaid with tiles the size of my thumbnail, dominated the center of the room. The walls were covered in mosaics of sea life. Done in a fresco style the sea creatures seemed to move through their watery home. Shelves discreetly recessed in the walls stood ready with large thick towels, and under our feet were woven mats to prevent slipping. On the far side of the room hidden from the door stood a large tuxedo style settee.

While I stared in wonder, Dorian slid his arms around my waist, “Fair warning, my Circe. I plan to make love to you on every surface in this room.” Then he kissed me chastely, grazed teeth over my ear while slipping his hand inside my bodice. He smiled wickedly and left me standing there trembling with arousal. _Devil._

With my laces fixed I could breathe again. The older of the two maids spoke again, “Soon you’ll have a handsome husband and in a few months a babe to show the proof of your love and devotion.”

I felt my eyes widen, then met hers in the reflection and I watched the color drain out of my cheeks as her words took form and definition in my mind. "See how you glow, My Lady? Your stomach is upset and your breasts hurt, I'll wager."

Before I could form words for an answer the door flew open. Dorian’s mother swirled into the room and we’re out of time to continue the discussion.“There is a qunari in my drawing room, Circe!” She gathered me up and whirled me out of the room. Discussion? My heart is in my throat, my stomach churned, and an odd sort of terror is trickling icy sweat down my spine.

The maid squeezed my hand, “Your secret is safe with me, My Lady.”

Then I'm hurried down the great hall to the entrance of the ballroom. Behind the doors I hear the murmuring of voices, soon the music will begin, and my father will lead me to my future husband. As guests still lingering outside parted for us, I noticed three things in quick succession. One, The Iron Bull’s horns. Two, Cassandra smiling at me and wearing a dress. And three, Commander Cullen in a dress uniform.

The room started to spin.

“Now, now, Inquisitor.” It was Bull steadying me on my feet and allowing me as much time as I needed to lean against his strength.

Then I heard him laugh. Bull’s laugh. Not the polite smirks you hear in drawing rooms and dinner tables of Tevinter. He bent down and kissed my cheek.

“And what do we have here?” He whispered into my ear. “Don’t worry; I’ll help raise him.”

When I sagged again, he caught me. “Bull, you’re wearing a shirt!”

He laughed again. And all at once I’m ready to cry because I missed these people, these brave, wonderful people. Cullen hugged me carefully, and Cassandra kissed my cheek.

_Cassandra kissed my cheek, Bull is wearing a shirt, and I might be with child. This is a day of wonders._

If I’d been this emotional during the Inquisition, they’d have tossed me out on my arse.

_What is wrong with me?_

Then my father found me and pulled my arm through his. “Not exactly the wedding attendants I imagined, my dear.”

“The best,” I replied.

The doors opened, and the musicians began to play. If I thought my nerves could get any shakier, I was wrong.

I searched for Dorian among the flickering candles and the sea of faces. There he is. He’s waiting for me and even the length of this ballroom I feel his presence. My nerves quieted. The ballroom is ablaze with candles. The arched ceiling soared above us decorated with stars glittering like crystals.

On my left is my father and on my right is The Iron Bull. Behind me walked Cullen and Cassandra. Perhaps we’ll have a double wedding! No, I thought and nearly laughed aloud. Someday, but not today.

The walk down the aisle finally brought us to the front rows. Watching me with hooded eyes is Liliana and beside her is Varric and Vivienne. Varric winked at me and Vivienne mouthed something that looked like “You look beautiful, darling.”

My mother is dabbing at her eyes, and my brothers and sisters are waving frantically. Emotions swirl and wrap me in tears and joy. My heart is full to the bursting. My father caught my cheek in his hand, “I couldn’t be more proud of you daughter.” Then he kissed my cheek formally handed me over to Dorian.

The shadow of The Iron Bull’s horns draped over us for a moment. Yes, Bull. I’m fine. Thank you.

The entire ceremony paused while Dorian and I looked each other over. “You look rather strapping,” I said with a grin. Resplendent in formal mage’s robes of black and scarlet, Dorian was handsome as ever.

He exchanged a glance with my father that I couldn’t decipher then took my arm. Together we turned toward the man who in a few moments would seal us in matrimony.

“Last chance, Dorian.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Back out? My dearest Inquisitor. I wouldn’t miss the fun for anything. Now behave.”

The ruling Archon Radonis cleared his throat and Dorian, and I managed to stop flirting. I found him an odd mix of absolute power and the arrogance that goes with it, but with a glint of humor in his dark eyes. I heard he had a weakness for cats. His voice echoed against the gilded walls and flickering candles. He looked out at the guests.

“And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.

And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.

Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.

Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away.

For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.

And now, Dorian and Circe will express their vows to each other.”

Dorian took my hands in his. “My Circe. I came to the Inquisition with no expectations other than to do the right thing and help if I could. What I found there was a companionship I’d never known. Friendship, honor and courage and each day a challenge to be better than the last. Those who I fought with buoyed me when we stood wilted with exhaustion or no hope of victory. Then after Haven when I found you in a makeshift camp, shivering on a cot and nearly dead of exposure. You opened your eyes, took my hand and asked me if I was alright.

I call you My Circe because I am your Dorian. I take you to be my partner for life, I promise above all else to live in truth with you, and to communicate fully and fearlessly, I give you my hand and my heart as a sanctuary of warmth and peace And pledge my love, devotion, faith, and honor As I join my life to yours."

Dorian pushed a tear from my cheek. Now it was my turn. "The last two years shaped me in ways I couldn’t have imagined. We were soldiers in arms and solid in our commitment to each other and victory over our enemies. Through it all, you were there beside me Dorian. Whether with a supportive shoulder or casting our spells together to create an invincible fighting team. When it was over, and peace reigned over Thedas there, you were beside me teasing me, offering guidance, but always my friend. I believe in you, Dorian. You are the person you will grow to be and the couple we will be together. With my whole heart, I take you as my husband…” I renewed my grip on his hands, looked into his eyes and added something to my vow. “And the father of our children, acknowledging and accepting your faults and strengths, as you do mine. I promise to be faithful and supportive and to always make our family’s love and happiness my priority. I will be yours in plenty and in want, in sickness and in health, in failure and in triumph. I will dream with you, celebrate with you and walk beside you through whatever our lives may bring. You are my person—my love and my life, today and always.”

Dorian slipped a heavy ring on my finger. The deep glow of old gold set perfectly against the first ring Dorian had given me.

“Tell me, Circe. You’re teasing goes too far,” Dorian whispered urgently as I slipped a matching ring on his hand.

I nodded and finally admitted to myself what I’d kept at bay these two months. That I was pregnant with Dorian’s child. I smiled up at him through my happy tears.

The Archon’s voice droned on, but Dorian and I didn’t hear him. The world around us disappeared as he sought and found the answers. Not even victory over Corypheus stirred me as profoundly as watching happiness spread over Dorian’s face.

“I love you, My Circe.” Dorian murmured before the Archon glared at him. With a knowing smile, Dorian and I laced our fingers together and decided to let the world back in.

“I present Lord and Lady Pavus.”

The Archon’s voice boomed out over the ballroom. The well-wishers surrounded us until finally, Bull and the others cleared a path for Dorian and I and led us to a quiet room where we could have a few moments alone.

* * *

 

Circe’s Gown: A kirtle (sometimes called cotte, or cotehardie) is a garment that was worn by men and women in the Middle Ages. It eventually became a one-piece garment worn by women from the late Middle Ages into the Baroque period. The kirtle was typically worn over a chemise or smock, which acted as a slip, and under the formal outer garment or gown/surcoat.

The Archon’s speech: _Corinthians 13,_ The King James version.


	28. Triumph of Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter. Thank you and virtual hugs to those of you who stayed with the story. Your encouragement and feedback kept me going. So that you know, there's a bit of Trespasser here.

* * *

"Peace is the beauty of life. It is sunshine. It is the smile of a child, the love of a mother, the joy of a father, the togetherness of a family. It is the advancement of man, the victory of a just cause, the triumph of truth." -Menachem Begin

* * *

**Dorian**

  
The party is winding down and the musicians, who look exhausted try to pack their instruments. But there are still couples on the dance floor and food to eat. The servants snuff the candles hopefully while I take a last circuit of the room and prepare to make my exit. The Bull and Circe’s father are sharing a drink while on break from glaring at me. So that's a plus. I remember to thank Andraste for the peace and quiet. Now, finally, I can be alone with my wife.

_My wife._

_I have a wife._

The thought of that fact does not fill me with dread as it once did. Circe was a choice I made. Not my father’s or societies choice, but mine. The Inquisition taught me many things. Ways of thinking about friendship, tactics, and politics that didn’t exist in Tevinter. Whatever shall I do without something to fight? Then I think, as the last of the musician’s file out the entrance and the servants snuffed the candles that I am no longer than man. The man who fled his home in search of something to nurture him the way his family never had. Indeed they’d starved him of the things Circe brought to my life.

Perhaps, someday, I might wish for the power and strength of a man’s body. But not today. Today, my wife waits for me, and I shall not keep her waiting. I have waited long enough. My body thrums with need of her, and I take the stairs two at a time to reach her.

 _My wife_.

But I am not so love-sick that I forget to set two slaves to guard the outer doors of Circe’s chambers and two of her maids to stand at the entrance of her sitting room.

I dismissed my valet…or instead, set him to guard the door where my room connected to Circe’s. Then I changed out of my formal robes and scrubbed the day’s grime of perfume, incense, and general well-wishing away and donned a pair of loose pants. As an afterthought, I grabbed the matching tunic. After all, it would do no good to come at her bare-chested like an animal. Although, perhaps later…

Lust set my blood boiling with need when I found my Circe naked in her bathing chamber. I stopped mid-flight with my need for her pressing against my clothes to look in wonder at the beauty before me. Water glistened on her shoulders her long dark hair, only a few hours ago tightly braided now hung in disarray down her back. She turned her flushed cheeks and glittering eyes to me.

_I am this woman’s husband._

“May I?” I shed my clothes and waded across the pool to her. Before I took the sponge from her hands, I set a chaste kiss on her lips. “Is this a nymph or my wife I find secretly bathing in our grotto?”

She twined her arms around my neck, “Neither. It is I, Circe the Enchantress who will turn you into any manner of wild beast if you fail to sate her needs tonight.”

Only the coolness of the water kept me from coming, like a green lad, at her words. I took a grip on my raging lust and managed a smile, “Then yield the sponge, my lady enchantress and allow your humble servant to see to your needs.”

I pushed her impertinent legs from my waist and her arms from around my neck. Then I sat down on a low step and drew her between my knees. She settled willingly into my embrace. I breathed in her scent, and it went straight to my head like expensive wine. Her breasts responded to the sponge when I dragged to the coarse fibers by lifting in tight peaks. A sharp need to set my mouth on her distracted me from bathing. When my Circe curled into my arms with her head against my shoulder, I remembered the words of her vows. She’d changed them, hadn’t she?

I cupped one of her breasts and realization hit me with force strong enough to curb my baser instincts.

“Circe?”

“Hmm?” She answered.

This was important, and that was all the answer I was to receive?

With an uncharacteristic blush heating my face I slid my other hand over her abdomen and found the answer. During the days of the Inquisition, our Circe was always too thin and whip strong. Her breast felt heavy in my hand, and her usually flat abdomen now had a small roundness to it. I’d been humbled in my time. You can be sure of the fact that my indomitable ego had been deflated by Andraste, Alexius and the death of my friend Felix. By the bedrock assurance of Circe’s love for me and hope for our future. And that spring morning that took me unawares when Commander Cullen called me by my name, instead of Mage as if it were a dirty word. I had found him asleep at his desk with pain creasing his brow, and his hands clenched into fists. He was our touchstone, the reassurance that what fought for was right and good. He, in simplest, yet profound words gave all of us something to come home too.

I placed my hands on his shoulders and sent the one healing spell I knew into his muscles. Shortly his shoulders relaxed, and his head rose from the desk. He blinked until he recognized me, then smiled and said, “Thank you, Dorian.”

“You should be in your bed, Commander.”

“Maybe…tonight…what is the hour? I don’t have time to sleep…”

When he tried to rise, I squeezed his shoulders and gently pushed him back down. Then sent him back to sleep before he could see my smile of gratitude.

“Circe. Tell me now. Is it true that you are with child?”

“I have not consulted with a healer or my mother, but all signs are there. Even my maids seem to think so.”

“Are you alright?” I asked her tilting her head back so I could see the truth of it. She only smiled lazily and pushed herself up to straddle my lap.

“I’m fine,” she said and set about kissing me. Well, we don’t have to talk about babies. But shouldn't we? Isn’t that what people do? Apparently not right now because my wife had her hands on me. She licked my lower lip and grazed her teeth over my cheek. When she sucked my ear into her mouth, she murmured, “Right now I want to talk about my handsome husband and show him how much I love him. Is that alright, My Lord?”

As if to punctuate her words, Circe pushed herself down over my aching cock and silenced my questions. Hotter than the bath water, Circe’s body tightened over me squeezing my flesh as if to hurry me along. With my last coherent thoughts, I marveled at the strength of her affection and how unlike anything I’d experienced she took my love and returned it so freely. She pushed my hand away when I tried to stroke between her legs. “You first, she chuckled against my lips and pinned my hands to the edge of the tub.

“Your wishes are my commands, lady wife.” I latched onto a nipple and sucked hard on her breast. She gasped and wrapped herself around me. Then she began to move. The rhythmic sensations of her heat and the shimmering water overtook me. When my head fell back against the rim, she dug her nails into my shoulders and breathlessly commanded me to use my teeth.

 _Yes, Inquisitor. Anything for you_.

Her full breast filled my mouth again, and after I’d given it my full attention, I released it by dragging my teeth over the firm flesh. She directed me to the other breast, and I went back to work. In minutes she was moaning as she took me again and again. My vision whited, and I buried my face against her. I grabbed her hips and pushed her down flush against my body. Mana rose from our joining steaming the bathwater. She bucked her hips against me and the thousand bolts of lightning, I’d held at bay for her, flew down my spine igniting the need to fill her with my seed. I gave into it with a roar of her name. Gave into the into the release that filled me with joy and relief. I pulsed into the deep mysteries of her body as we rode out the waves of our orgasm cleaved together. And again, I am humbled. Is there anything more intense or private than this moment between man and wife?

When I could think again, I washed us both and carried her to the settee. Covering so that she did not chill, I knelt between her knees and set her legs over my shoulders. The kiss on the swollen lips of the entrance to her sex woke her with a gasp.

“Your turn, My Circe.”

She pushed against the tip of my tongue as it stroked the folds open. She was perfect this way, writing against me. Wild and free from the constraints of the outside world. Her abandonment encouraged me to slip two fingers inside her as I continued to use my tongue to bring her to orgasm. Her scream of release filled the tiled room and went on so long that I wondered if the servants might rush in. Her release spilled warm and silky over my hand. She tasted of sweet sex and wild mage. I revealed in it. Such are the gifts of husbands and wives. Yes?

By the time she opened her eyes, I was hard again. And to my wonder, she pulled me to her with her long legs.

“Circe,” I breathed as I pushed myself inside the core of her pulsing muscles. If I thought to go slow, she was having none of it. If I meant to be gentle, she gripped me with her legs.

“Harder,” she pleaded.

I could do that. I held her still and fucked her as hard as any man...Oh, no. That won't do. But how was I to know? Apparently, she’s not breakable.

_No, you fool. She’s the Inquisitor. A mage. And your heart._

When the storm spent itself I carried her straight to bed. The room was chilled, but I didn’t want to leave her long enough to build a fire, so I pulled her against me with her head on my chest. By all that Andraste holds holy, we should be asleep. I know next to nothing of love, but I was learning more each day. This passion will cool someday into the balance and wisdom of married couples, but tonight we stayed awake and clung to each other. My Circe lay at my side tracing her fingertips over my torso.

“So are all Tevinter people bred to be handsome…virile?” She asked innocently.

_Innocent? My, Circe? Sorry, my love, that boat has sailed._

What was she getting at, I wondered? “Circe, you wound my pride. But yes, that is true. The perfect mage, the perfect ruler and perfect body. Utter nonsense of course.”

“Then, there are more of you? Men as handsome, but younger, perhaps?”

In a proper Tevinter rage I flipped my impudent wife on her back and glared at her with a scowl designed to send any slave running for cover. She laughed up at me with the glint in her blue eyes that told me she only teased.

“Scandalous, wench,” I replied to the face looking up at me so innocently. “Tomorrow we will discuss these pregnancy fancies of yours.”

Ha! I smiled as her eyes widened. Got you.

I covered us both and tucked her against me. I think I fell asleep with my hand over her belly. I dreamed of a little girl with green eyes and black hair. She rode on my shoulders laughing and crying out for me to go faster. I would teach her, her first spell. And she would never doubt in her mind that her parents loved her. Names filtered through my tired mind like Cassandra, Cassiopeia, Hadriana, or Calypso? What about Aquila? So many names from Tevinter history are associated with violence, and that would be the last thing I wished for my little girl.

Hadriana Lorena Pavus will never stand aside for others or deny herself pleasure. Her education will be of the finest in the land. Tutors, sword masters, and wise and skilled mages. Perfect, I thought with my head resting on Circe's breasts and sleep finally caught up with me.

In another part of the house, while Dorian and Circe drifted into peaceful sleep, a shadow within shadows darted gracefully down an empty corridor beneath the finely furnished rooms. Deep enough that the noise of the guests, music, and the scent of tables heavily laden with food was absent. Inside a windowless room, protected by spells and secret doors, Lord Halward Pavus impatiently searched his library shelves for a specific book. Dimly aware it was his own stubbornness that brought him here Lord Pavus shoved aside a sheaf of papers. It was a book of his father's writings and he meant to present it to Dorian as a wedding present. Maker take that damn thing! Where was it?

With only a candle to light his search and no servant to watch out for his safety, Lord Pavus never noticed the cloaked figure approach him from behind. The assassin’s blade struck true, and he was gone before Lord Pavus could turn around. But as the final efforts of his heart pumped his life's blood over his tunic his hand found a parchment and pen. The servants who found him the next day dared not touch the note clutched in his palm. When Dorian arrived, he slipped the note from his father’s still hand.

Distantly he heard his mother's scream. The servants scattered at the first sound of Dorian's weeping. He dropped to his knees, allowed his hands to fall slack and watched the bloodstained paper fall to the stone floor.

**My Son…my dearest son...forgive…always loved…always proud…**

~The End~


End file.
